


Strength in the Face of Despair

by Queen_of_Unicorns_999



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Attempts at Sarcasm, Don't know how detailed yet, F/F, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Nightmares, Slightly OP Original Character, mentions of torture, slight apathy, soft moments, sweet romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Unicorns_999/pseuds/Queen_of_Unicorns_999
Summary: The game play of The Arcana if the Apprentice's revival had gone wrong and the wrong soul had been brought back.
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Original Character(s), Portia Devorak/Nadia
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All disclaimers exist: I do not own The Arcana or its characters, I am just burrowing them for the ride. Will give them back later, the original game is awesome and I love it, the creators did an amazing job on it.
> 
> This is just an idea that came to me and won't leave me be, Seraphin, the one taking the place of the Apprentice is my own in the sense that his background and previous experiences were created by me while the original one belongs to the game creators.  
> This story will follow closely to the game with Julian's route as I like him the best out of all the characters.

**Prologue: THE BEFORE**

I died.

Not gloriously, not heroically, just painfully.

But then the pain was gone and sweet, sweet darkness greeted me. I was surprised to find my mind still conscious and capable of thought. My culture believed that one was either washed clean of all memories before reincarnating and living again or their soul was destroyed if they were a truly evil person. Yet, nothing said anything abut floating in nothingness and yet I was glad. It was peaceful here and I let myself be.

Time did not pass as one floated in darkness, when one did not have bodily needs such as sleep or hunger. And then I ran into another soul. I was so taken aback when my being connected with another’s that I recoiled with enough vigorousity that I discovered that my magic must originate from my soul as I felt it respond to my call and lash out. Then realization hit and I panicked, had I hurt the other soul?

This time I reached out with careful attention to see if I could find them again, surprised when I succeeded.

 _‘Are you okay? Sorry I panicked.’_ I sent the though, hoping it would work.

 _‘Don’t worry, that’s the reaction of all the new souls that come here and meet someone for the first time, I was the same.’_ I was ecstatic when they responded.

_‘Oh! Can you tell me where this is? And how can you tell I’m new? I feel like I’ve been here for a long time thought it’s hard to tell.’ ‘_

_It’s because you can still access your powers. With time, you begin to lose them as well as your memory and then I was told by other souls here that you are reborn once you have fully forgotten.’_ The other soul seemed very friendly and willing to explain. This also seemed to prove to an extent that what my culture believed was correct.

 _‘How long have you been here? What do you remember?’_ I asked, curiosity setting in.

_‘Just my name and that I once had magic and well…something I prefer not to talk about.’_

_'_ _I can understand that. I also have things I wouldn’t want to talk about…So what is your name?’_

_‘I am Seraphin.’_ Surprise infused my soul.

 _‘Really? What a coincidence! My name is also Seraphin!’_ I exclaimed with amusement, what are the chances of meeting someone else with the same name in such a situation?

I felt similar amusement from their soul and felt warmth, ah, I had missed simple pleasures.

 _‘Say-’_ My question was interrupted when searing heat wrapped around the other soul and I could feel their pain through our still active connection. I acted more on instinct and sympathy for the pain than thought when I gathered my magical energy and pushed the other soul out of the heat wrapping it in something that felt like hot iron chains. The other had said that one was reborn when they forgot completely and yet they still had a very few memories left, this must be something else.

What I felt through the connection was nothing to the pain I felt when I was the one captured. If I had vocal cords to scream with, they would be raw from the effort. This pain was nearly as blinding as what I felt when I had died but I was still conscious of it, when the chains started to drag me away a moment later and bright light overwhelmed all my senses…

“Ser….in? A…y…” Who?

“Sera…? Can….?” Who is speaking?

“Seraphin?” It is not a voice I recognize.

“Seraphin? Can you hear me? Please respond if you can, please...please.” The voice breaks on the last word and I can feel their sorrow but…do they have the right person?

Feeling starts to seep in me and I realize that I have a body once more. I can feel hands and feet and my heart beating and my lungs breathing. So I flicker my eyes open to see an unknown person. Purple eyes meet mine and the relief is near enough palpable in the air with how they sigh before smiling widely at me, their eyes go soft.

“I’m so glad to see you awake, Seraphin.” His voice is soft and pleasant to hear but…

“Who-” My voice unfortunately cracks when I try to speak and the other quickly finds a glass of water to give me, helping me to sit up and drink it while murmuring for me to be careful. I try again.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” I am curious to find out, thought considering my background it maybe isn’t that surprising that I am recognized. But didn’t I die? Was the darkness, the other soul I met and everything else just a delirious dream I made up to escape my pain?

“Ah…” The person’s eyes dim a little at my questions before he smiles again.

“I am Asra and we were friends in the past, how much do you remember?” The newly named Asra questions, eyes shifting to the side for a moment.

I was rather sure that my memory is fully intact so how could I not remember him? And his body language is taut, the eye shift too…is he telling the truth? Something in me tells me to be careful of what I reveal. When in doubt, play amnesiac.

“I…I remember my name and…and…for some reason I can’t grasp the rest of my memory…there was pain?” Calling upon my memories of the torture, I curl up as if to try and escape from it. Unfortunately for me, the thought of the memory alone makes sweat bead on my brow and my breathing grow heavy.

“Seraphin!” Asra’s voice raises as warm hands come around me in an attempt to soothe, “Don’t try to remember if it hurts, you had a bad accident and it is better if you don’t force it.”

I take his advice at the point in forgetting the memory, better to push it away, better to not think about it. At least he has brought my act, he probably won’t ask me to remember for a while and I can gather information about my surroundings. About this person and anything else I could get my hands on.

I let him hug me until my breathing settles before I shift, slightly uncomfortable. He seems rather observant as he immediately shifts away and lets me look at him again. My mind starts to catalogue his looks for memory as well as a coping mechanism to control my thoughts. First thing I see is their golden-brown skin as their shirt is open at the chest, next is their magenta and gold tasselled shawl across their chest, the colours bright, catching the eye. Their pants are a nice brown and black but the gold studs catch my eyes and I have to wonder at his dark magenta boots. It suits them but makes me wonder at the fashion of wherever I have currently ended up in. Going back up towards their face, I note the golden choker with nice swirls before spotting a small blue crystal on a cord. Their hair is white…Are they magical? My own magic is too exhausted to reach out but I know that human’s do not have white hair unless they are very old. Asra seems to be in his twenties but it was hard to tell with magical beings. His own father had been hundred and forty but did not look a day over thirty taken by human standards.

I shift away to look at the room instead to see wooden walls and floors, a colourful rug and bright blue curtains. How poor was this person if they could not afford a stone house? I hadn’t been aware of them existing in our country anymore. Or maybe it was a decorative choice?

But my shifting movements have reminded me that I feel sweaty and grimy and while I am sure that I have been washed to be able to treat my wounds, I would really like a relaxing bath.

“Ah, Asra…could I take a bath?” I ask with some hesitation. What if I was wrong and they weren’t magical? Baths were hard for the lower class humans but at the same time, their clothing was of good, sturdy material. And the choker was of gold so…they seemed to be full with contradictions. A wooden house but wearing gold…

“Do you think you could manage? You just woke up…” Asra seems rather hesitant with my suggestion, I am not above looking soulfully at him. I really want a bath, especially as it seems entirely possible.

“I will be very careful!” I assure them.

“…Alright, I will go prepare it for you then.”

“Thank you.” I give them a smile, feeling truly grateful.

They give me a long look before they leave to do as they had said, and I am left on my own. With them gone, I look around the room more closely. There is a desk in one corner with a few books and papers laying on top, neatly stacked. There are also some bookshelves filled with books and some unknown knickknacks I do not recognize the purpose of. There is also what must be a dresser for clothing not too far from the end of the bed. I then look down upon myself to see what I am wearing…

Ah, maybe I was still dreaming for my hands appeared to be of golden-brown colour like Asra’s, yet I was as pale as they came and would not tan for anything. And then I note a distinctive lack of scars. My hands are smooth, as if they had never seen a day’s work in their life. No callouses from learning how to wield a dagger, no cuts, no star shaped scar from where I got burned. No long scar across my lower hand from a close call in a fight, no scarred knuckles, just smooth nothingness and golden-brown skin…And maybe my hands are smaller than they should be? I reach up to grasp at my hair and to my horror instead of the long tail, they are short, barely touching the ears and the strands are white and not the colour they should be. And I knew that I had not shifted shapes, I knew how that felt and there was no tingling and wash of magic enveloping me so what was wrong? Had Asra dyed it to hide me?

A mirror, I needed a mirror. Eyes darting across the room to see if I had somehow missed it, I could not spot a reflective surface anywhere. Okay, I needed to breathe. I could not panic, that would give things away and that might be far more dangerous than I believed beforehand. So I pulled all my emotions into an imagined box and locked them away to maybe be examined later and my heartrate started to slow down again. Just in time as Asra soon entered again. That was slow for bath drawing if we were in the magical community but all my beliefs needed to be thrown out of the window.

Assume that I know nothing, make no mistakes.

“The bath is ready, come, I’ll help you to the bathroom as you might be unsteady on your feet,” Asra was careful with them as they helped. The hands just as gentle as when they were giving me the hug earlier. I do not feel any ill intent but I know that it can be hidden even from the sharpest and most experienced people.

“Ah, thank you,” I muster a smile and let them guide me, taking note of the small hallway, three doors and a stairway leading down. So we were on a second floor, getting down in my unsteady state will be a challenge if I must make an escape but I shall not make any notion of my thoughts.

They lead me straight across, just a few steps and opens a door to a rather small bathroom. Toilet in the far corner and a long wooden tub takes up most of the free space and some shelves for towels and soap. This…is very human like…was I in the enemy territory then? Had Asra extracted me but couldn’t get me out fully and so we were struck living amongst humans? So why look so unhuman like? White hair and purple eyes were not normal for humans. And my hair was also white, had it really been dyed? I felt no foreign magic on me and I would have, even if I am depleted myself. But then the steaming water catches my attention and I forget everything else. I am desperate for a bath. I turn to Asra.

“Ah, if you don’t mind…?” I look at them and then shift my eyes to the door, hoping they will let me bath on my own.

They shift, looking away before looking back, “Call me if you need help.”

I respond with a nod and I am soon left by myself after they lifts a towel down and points to soaps and shampoos if I want them. I supress a sigh just in case they are lurking around and it might give me away. Then I pull off the long nightrobe that I have been wearing and let it fall to the floor. I very purposefully do not look down at myself and simply step into the water. Warmth envelopes me and my worries momentarily fade. There is just me and warmth. After a time, I gather my strength to get clean and move to pick up a bottle of soap when my eye catches on a movement. I turn my head properly and come face to face with an unfamiliar face. My brows furrow, the other’s do the same.

I still.

It can’t be. _It can’t._

Those icy blue eyes are not mine. Those lips, that jaw. That is _not_ me. NOT ME!!!


	2. Chapter I: THE MAGICIAN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the first chapter from the game's prologue chapters but where all that Seraphin really wants to do is have some peace to take his bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Disclaimers apply: I do not own any of the characters from the game or most of the story plot, I'm just borrowing them for the story, I promise to give them back.  
> I do take full credit for the other Seraphin and his background as the aprentice in the game has a very different backstory to mine.

My name is Seraphin. I am a student of the magical arts. I live and train in the city of Vesuvia.

Tonight, the evening fog is thick, blanketing the streets in an ethereal milky glow, lanterns burning like small fires amidst the swirling tendrils. I linger at the window, appreciating the moment of tranquillity I am afforded.

“I’ll miss you,” the voice of my Master, Asra, makes me turn, drawing the curtains shut behind me.

It has been three years since I woke up in this new body that shared the same name as me. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was not in fact, back in my own familiar world but in an entirely new one. I must truly have died and then been summoned back to life. But in the wrong dimension. And Asra has been my guide in this unknown world.

Sometimes, my mind flashes to the other soul that I had been conversing with before the burning chains had clutched them. When I took their place…were they the one that had been meant to be returned to life?

“Is fog really the best time to go for a journey?” I ask, wandering out from my ruminations.

“It’s the dead of a moonless night. The exact right time for a journey,” they give me a weak smile and I know that they are running from their feelings again. I can understand that. Whoever the right Seraphin had been, they must have shared love between them. I am rather sure that it was Asra who brought me back to life but somewhere they made a mistake. Or it was my fault for interfering at that time.

Sometimes guilt consumes me for that but I couldn't have known, at that time, what had been happening. And this wasn't a mistake that can be truly fixed. not anymore. I was here and by now the other must have been already reborn and began a new life somewhere else.

I cannot give Asra what they want. There is no romantic attraction for me there. But as someone who has been thought to gather information, their looks and body language scream their love for the original Seraphin. It is not like I have no affection for them. For, after all, they have helped me a lot, have taught me the magic of this world, the customs and has taken care of me well, but it is brotherly for me and I know that they can tell that as well. Hence, the running.

“Here, take this,” The sadness fades and a twinkle enters their eyes in the dim lamplight, “For you to play around with while I’m gone.”

A gift? How random.

“My tarot deck,” their soft voice continues as their hand comes out of their pocket, offering me a deck of cards.

“Your special, one of a kind, tarot deck?” I ask, eyes widening, this being the last thing I had been expecting to receive. Those were very special to them, I knew that. They told me that they made them themselves and I could feel the power they held whenever I touched them when they were teaching me how to use them.

“I…Just for a while, right? Not, like to keep or anything?” I inquire, not wanting to take something I know they value so much.

“…Yes, just for a while. I believe that you know how to use them, whether you believe it or not.”

Ah, those cards take a lot of concentration for me to use. The magic behind them is powerful, so much more powerful than anything on the human side of this world that it takes effort to focus on what they are saying and not just the taste of their power. My dimension had nothing like that and three years seem too short to master something special like this. my gift still lies more with destructive magic even as I can do so much more than before. This world seems to operate on: ‘What you can imagine, can become real’ rules and all you need is enough magical practice and power. Ah, so much practice.

“If you say so Master,” I use the title I believe is respectful when they teach me. Their name is for friendly, relaxed moments.

“Why shift between Master and Asra so much?” They sigh before changing the topic.

“Let’s see how well you can use them. Read my fortune, just for fun.”

I nod at them and turn to walk towards the back room, shifting the deep magenta curtain out of the way and let them pass under my arm. I am about thirteen centimetres taller than them but still shorter than what I was back in my original body.

They give me a smile as they pass and I let the curtain fall behind me, casting us in a dimmer light than the main room in the shop. There are sheer blue fabrics hanged around the room in half circles in enough layers to make any light in here from the window, very dim. It is part of the marketing. Fortune reading works just as well in broad daylight under the sun but people have expectations and it would be silly not to fulfill them when it brings in money.

“It’s been a while since we’ve practiced,” Asra comments as I take a seat opposite them and they offer me the cards once more.

I bite back the comment that leaps to my mouth at that because it could hurt and that is not what I want to do. So I take the cards instead and shuffle them. But before I can start concentrating on their power, something smooth brushes along my ankle. The cool scales are familiar and I’m not surprised when Asra leans down and comes back up with a long, purple serpent that winds up their arm. The beautiful snake flicks her tongue at me, in a snake greeting. That’s Faust, Asra’s familiar.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” their eyes having softened with the presence of their beloved familiar.

I look down from them and start concentrating on the cards again. I let their power guide me and pick the one that glows to my senses. I flip it and present the card to them.

“The High Priestess,” hmmm, what an interesting outcome.

Asra, leans closer, expectant: “And what is she telling you? Is she speaking to you?”

To me, their speech sound like power, it most certainly is no human tongue but if I concentrate carefully enough, I can understand it.

“You’ve forsaken her.” That... sounds like bad news.

“I have?”

“Yes, you’ve been pushing her away and burying her voice. She speaks but you won’t listen.” I can see their frown forming as I speak but they don't interrupt.

“Master, if you ignore h-” but I am interrupted by sharp knocking. It is unexpected enough that it startles all three of us as I cut myself short, glancing towards the curtain that hides the outer room and therefore the door. I remember putting out the lantern to signify that we are closed so why…

“Did we forget to put out the lantern again? Just as well, I can’t stay any longer.”

Ah, Asra is definitely ignoring what I just said as they quickly gather their things up, putting on their long, sleeveless coat in multitudes of colour and the symbols of the Arcana from their tarot deck decorating the corners. They wind, a thick and wide, maroon scarf around it and dons their black, wide-brimmed hat stabbed by a colourful feather. They grabs their bag of necessities and with Faust once more wrapped around their arm, glances at me where I have stood up, watching their movements.

“Well then…take care of yourself, Seraphin.” I watch as they shift on their feet and glance away. I can feel that they want to tell me something else, but they won’t say it. I do not know whether it’s a good thing or not.

“Until we meet again,” They part the curtains and I slip out of the room with them and watch as they noiselessly slip out the back door.

A second later, the knocking comes again, clearly impatient. I have half a mind to ignore it but it could be an emergency, right?

I open the door.

Only to be greeted by a shorter figure that was still taller than Asra, their upper figure hidden by a dark purple shawl that had two black wings pinned by a golden circular pin on one side. How odd.

They step in as I step aside in an invitation and I note their darker skin of warm brown as they begin to unwind their shawl.

“Forgive me for the hour,” they begin, voice distinctly female and cultured, definitely nobility, “…but I will not suffer another sleepless night.”

‘Maybe they need a doctor if they can’t sleep’ I think but then the elegant cloth slips fully away, revealing the visitor’s face. I am caught by her beautiful, long tyrian purple hair, first. They look so silky and smooth! But then recognition sets in as I take in the rest of her face, meeting her red eyes. That’s the Countess, standing in my shop.

“Please, you must read the cards for me,” she announces as I take in her dappled, sky blue and purple dress with sheer sleeves and a light green corset decorated with gold. As well as all her different jewellery of gold, pearl and jade. She has good taste in outfits but then her words register.

“If you wish,” I tell her, it would be impolite to turn her away now that I have let her in.

“Your reputation preceded you. Beggars and nobles alike…the people of this city whisper your name in wonder. Though in my dream you were…different. No matter. I come with a proposal.” She continues on, turning an intense gaze upon me.

Umm? Did she not register what I just said? But there is quite a lot of information in her sentences, so what to address first?

“You dreamt of me?” Precognition and divination are not powers that were seen often in my own world and yet seem far more common in this one. I am always intrigued by them, even more so now that she said that she dreamt of me.

“Yes. I have the unwelcome ability to foresee the future. My dreams are hunted by future visions waiting to unfold. But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you…is one I will not allow to pass.” Her voice has a tilt of nerves in it, whatever this dream was, must have hit her hard. It makes me all the more curious but I can tell from her answer that wasn't an actual answer that she does not want to go into more detail. So I shift my focus.

“So, what’s the proposal?”

“Are you nervous perhaps?” Her smile is soft, coaxing as she lifts her hand to her chest, “You needn’t be. I require very little of you.” Do I look nervous? I most certainly don't feel it.

Her red gaze bores into me, “Come to the Palace and be my guest for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only, that you bring your skill…and the Arcana.”

What are the chances that it is just a coincidence that she comes on the night when Asra has left their cards to me? What would she have done if they had taken the tarot deck with them? Made me hunt them down? But then, this must be the power of Precognition she possesses.

“I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow,” the Countess continues, “But before that, I want to see these talents of yours for myself. Shall we do that reading, then?”

I move towards the back room for the second time this night, lifting the curtain in invitation once more to let the Countess pass through. She quirks me a smile as she slips by, her movements graceful, her mid-thigh length hair swaying behind her.

The Countess seats herself in the chair Asra was occupying not too long ago and makes it look like a throne as she gives me an imperious look before her gaze darts around the small space as I take my own seat and produce the cards. Her attention immediately shifts to them.

As I begin to shuffle them, she places her hands on the table before her, folded and closes her eyes. I mirror her action and wait for a card to jump out at me with its glow. Soon, I pick a card and present it in front of her as my eyes flick open. She must feel my gaze as her eyes do the same.

“The Magician,” I report the name when I flip the card and look at it, feeling her studying the card with me.

“How very appropriate. And what does the Magician hold for me?”

Their speech of power flows over me and I concentrate to understand it, “You have a plan. One that’s important to you.”

“And? Should I set it in motion?” She inquires, moving her eyes back on me now which flash brilliantly in the lamplight.

“Yes.” The answer I am given is very clear, “Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place.”

“Say no more.” Abruptly, she stands, giving the card one last glance. She throws back the curtains, striding back into the main shop while I scramble to follow her.

“Your fortunes are straight forwards. Much the same as the other’s I’ve hear and yet… You are the first to pique my interest.” Her words set me on edge. My gut warning me that this visit is setting something in motion. This feeling has never bode well for me.

I watch as she twists the shawl around her face once more hiding it from the sight of others. Then she glances at the door and gives a pointed cough. I give her a smile as I glide over to the door to open them for her, it is, after all the polite thing to do. She gives me an intrigued smile as she walks out.

“I will see you tomorrow then, at the Palace. Rest well.” She gives me a polite nod of farewell and vanishes into the mist.

‘Rest well?’ But because of her visit it has only gotten later and I am late for my evening bath. And I am determined to have it. But staying here won’t get my bath ready sooner and so I step back into the shop and lock the door behind me, wondering what could the Countess of Vesuvia want with me? Maybe she mistook me for Asra? She did say that I did not look as she had expected and me and Asra had our similarities, sharing a skin and hair colour as well as both being lithe in body shape. Could also explain why she was so certain that I had the cards…

My mulling is interrupted by a harsh, muffled voice.

“Strange hours for a shop to keep.”

Really? Didn’t I just get rid of one unexpected guess? And how did they get in? The back door? Did Asra not lock it after themselves?

I turn around to face the direction from where the voice sounded from to be confronted by…a plague doctor? I mean, they had the mask that plague doctors’ wore, the white beak gleaming in the dim lamplight, but they wore a coat that did not fit the image of a doctor though it was black.

I stare at the big, red glass circle that reflects the light and barely lets me see a fuzzy image of an eye behind it as the figure looms against the back door, arms crossed.

“So this is the witch’s lair,” he speaks again, after a moment of silence when i do not offer anything, the masked face quickly moving around to probably take in the shop before he trains his glassy red eye on me and advances as he speaks, “Then…who might you be?”

Should I fight them? My heartbeat picks up as I step back, raising my arm as I call my magic upon me but... an explosion would not be good in such a proximity and not in my shop either. Also, the extra clean up I did not want to do.

Instead, my eyes dart around and fall upon a bottle which I quickly retreat to grab and fling accurately at the intruders temple. It hits the mark with a loud shatter. I am not above wincing in sympathy as I see blood seep down the now unmasked face, the mask having been knocked off by my throw.

“…you have guts.” The intruder looks rather impressed by my throw. Is this something he should be impressed by?

“What did you break in here for? Couldn’t you knock like the Countess?” I ask, though it is a bit doubtful if I would have answered the door a second time. Especially if I had gotten as far as starting on my bath.

He looks rather startled by my questions before his face twists into a sneer, it doesn’t quite suit him.

“I came for the witch. Quickly now, where is he?”

Now that I have had the time to take in his face, his auburn hair and that pale skin and grey eye…if you took away his eyepatch, it would be the man from the wanted posters. Wasn’t this Dr. Julian Devorak? The person who apparently murdered the Count?

But he asked a question, so: “Master Asra is gone. I don’t know where or when he will be back.”

The Doctor frowns at me as he wipes at his sluggishly bleeding brow. I am watching him closely enough to feel magic activate and the cut sealing close, 'How... interesting.'

“Is that so…” he mutters before training his eye on me once more, “Well, no sense in wasting a visit.”

He gives me a look: “You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you? Tell my fortune and I’ll leave you in peace.”

Right…That would be the third reading tonight. And none of them paid me, like, I really doubt the Doctor would do so, considering the break in and all. Asra is fine but I do not run a charity here! And it takes effort to read those cards.

“That is, what the room in the back is for, isn’t it?” The Doctor persists and so I give him a nod. Really, he could come back tomorrow and not cut into my bath time!

“After you then,” he says and for once, it is not me who holds the curtain open and it makes something foreign swirl in my stomach. Huh, how odd.

I glance at him as I slide past him into the backroom once more, noting that he is, in fact, taller than me. What a rare sight.

He drops himself into the reading chair, looming over the table as he leans forwards, “Go on. No need to be shy.”

His smile is charming but I shift my eyes away and focus on the cards instead. I shuffle them for the third time tonight and with a sigh, find the card that glows. No need to put on pretences to an unpaying invader.

Opening my eyes, I flip over the card and am rather startled.

“Death.” Not a card I get often.

I begin to listen to their voice of power, it, for some reason feeling much weaker than the others when I am jerked out of my concentration by the Doctor's voice.

“Death? _Death?_ ” He barks with uncontrollable laughter and yet all it sound like is sarcasm and despair. He turns away from me and the card, raising his eye to the heavens. Or more precisely, the draped ceiling.

“Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away,” he trains his eye back on me, vehemence gleaming in it, “She has no interest in an abomination like me.”

He jumps to his feet and strides out of the backroom without a backward glance. Err… What was with that strong reaction just now? I didn’t even explain?

Due to my confusion, I am a little slow in jumping out of my seat to follow at his heels.

“Ah, wait! I think you might-”

But the Doctor interrupts me with a heartfelt sigh, shaking his head: “No, no. My fate is sealed.”

“But you’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in on a secret. Your witch friend will be back for you. He has taught you his tricks, after all. You may even say he cared for you,” he speaks as he lifts his mask off the floor, staring into its glassy red eyes. Then he looks at me.

“But when he returns…Seek me out, for your own sake. Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep.”

Fool me? The only important piece of information he is keeping from me is that he probably resurrected me. But I am also keeping the fact that I am the wrong Seraphin and that I am aware so…I think we are even.

He is giving me a long, hard look and I return it, before the stare-down is interrupted when he fixes the mask back in its place, covering his face once more.

“Well, then. The hour is late and I’m out of time.” With a very dramatic flourish of his black cape like coat, he swirls and throws the back door open before leaving. It really was open…

Hmph.

I am determined to go have my bath now, after I lock the back door behind the Doctor and ascend the stairs. I am not attending to anyone else tonight even if the Arcana themselves show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I totally meant to update yesterday but life happened. For that, I'm updating two chapters today. Next one will hopefully be posted on Saturday at some point.


	3. Chapter II: THE HIGH PRIESTESS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraphin does get his bath and you get more glimpses of his past as the second chapter commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Disclaimers apply: I do not own the characters of the game or the storyline, just Seraphin's past considering he is not the original apprentice.
> 
> Warning for nightmares but that's in the tags so hopefully you are prepared. They only hint at what happened to him and don't go into too much detail. Nor is it very long and easy enough to miss for now. That might change later.

I enjoy my bath with no further interruptions and the stress of the day is washed away. The events of this night have been strange, outside the norm of my usual day-to-day happenings in this city that I know call my home. But I very decidedly refuse to dwell on it.

Instead, I move to my room in which I woke up those three years ago. The curtains are open, fluttering in a slight breeze. Blue irises bloom in the flower pots I had made out of the windowsills of all my windows, the magic here was so very easy to use compared to my original world. The range also wider if one just knew how to use it, only requiring a mind with enough imagination and willpower.

I smiled at my flowers, their faint scent infusing the room. I loved these flowers for what they represented. Hope, cherished friendship and valour. Wasn’t that beautiful? Those were all things needed in life….well, one could survive without valour but it would be such a hard and lonely life without the other two.

Touching the soft petals, I let my mind grow hazy with exhaustion. It being late spring, it is fine to leave the windows open and so I begin to take off my shirt and trousers. A nightrobe goes on and I slip under my covers. With a sigh, I let my eyes fall shut and my mind to fall into slumber.

_The sky is no more than a slim, green line along the endless horizon. I find myself sitting beside Asra, on the back of a strange beast._

“W _here are we, Asra?” I wonder, looking around to note the dark clouds bearing down all around the landscape that’s a shifting sea of rust coloured sand. Looking ahead, I see a road made of perfect black stone._

“ _Far enough from home, I think.”_

“ _Far enough…for what?”_

“ _For answers. For clarity. And I need them soon,” their eyes are downcast, their mouth set in a slight frown. Something feels wrong._

“ _A storm is coming…” they shift their eyes to look into the distance, their voice dimming to a wistful whisper._

_Looking in the same direction, I can’t make out any definite details as the path keeps shifting and changing._

_Their voice drags my attention back to them: “Soon there will be a crossroads.”_

“ _How soon? Where will they lead?” I am curious, is this important?_

“ _That depends on which one you take.”_

_Their hands reach for mine, but they stop just short of holding them. The sand begins to rise all around us on a chilly wind, blotting out the starry sky and the black swirling clouds._

“ _For now, Seraphin…rest.”_

_I want to shout for them to wait but the sand swallows me and I am on a table. Hands and feet chained down. Magic suppressing collar digging into my throat as torches are my only source of light. I can’t see anyone but I can hear them, somewhere out of sight. Footsteps sound, coming closer and fear sets it…'No! Please no!'_

I wake to my heart beating out of my chest, lungs screaming from breathing too hard. ‘They can’t get to me, here,’ I have to remind myself, ‘This is an entirely different world and they were only human…’

Standing up on slightly wobbly feet, I shuffle over to the windows to admire my flowers.

“It will be fine,” I whisper to them, “I will get through this…right?” Silence answers me but then it always does. I do not want to bother Asra with them, I know that they suffer from some of their own. Better not to burden them with my own on top of that... Or maybe I am just a coward. How do I tell them that I am not who they think I am? Where would I go if they reject me? I know that they told me that this shop belonged to me but I am not the original Seraphin and they probably had more right to it than me, even if they were away so often…Hmm, better not to think about it.

Looking outside, I spot the first rays of dawn filtering through the morning mist. I suppose I need to get ready and not wallow on my dreams. I do need to meet the Countess at the Palace but…did I ever actually agree to her request? Meh, I suppose I shall go anyway and see what she wants. What is it exactly that she has been preparing and planning for? Ah, but a quick wash is needed first

Once I’m ready, I throw on my travelling cloak, grab my bag of provisions and step outside, dragging the heavy front door shut behind me. I had already double checked the back door to be locked and had closed all the windows.

I turn the first lock, the second and third before pressing my hand to the door and whispering a cross-me-not spell. Such small magic but so convenient! I love the magic here. I watch the white whorls glowing deeply within the door before they fade into the grain. There, that should be safe…I hope so.

As I twirl on my heel to begin the long trek to the Palace, I see a dark shape looming in the alley. The black fur cloak is familiar, along the collar around his neck and the chains. He comes by every time Asra leaves for a journey to ask if I am safe. I think he does it because of Asra too, they are probably friends.

They are watching me as they usually do, quietly and with nary a sound. The scars I can see peeking through under the cloak from his unclothed chest reveal that he must have been a fighter at some point in his life. His form is enormous and block most of the road that I must take to get to the Palace.

I smile at him as I walk over: “Excuse me, could you please move a little?”

His beautiful, stormy green eyes meet mine, unblinking. The man slowly slides to the left, clearing my path, his chains rattling slightly from the movement.

“Thank you,” I nod at him and begin to walk past when he speaks.

“He will return, uninvited.” His voice always reminds me of distant thunder. Ah, I do not like it much, storms bearing many bad memories for me but the man is gentle so I make sure to never show my discomfort but for that first time I heard him speak.

I pause to see if he will say anything else.

“He will offer you an escape, when you need it most. Turn it away. Or you will fall into his hand…Just like the rest of us.” Huh. This is very different to his usual inquires of my wellbeing. Was this from Asra or his own warning?

Just as I turn to take a look at him in case I can gather something else from him, there is shuffling and the dragging of rough cloth and chains. When I finish my turn, he is gone. Then the expected magic washes over me, trying to coerce me into forgetting him. It tastes of familiar power and my nose scrunches as I withstand the compulsion. I do not know why it doesn’t work on me. But if the man wishes to be forgotten, I never act too familiar, just friendly in appreciation that he keeps checking up on me. But I do have a wish to know his name, not like I can ask anyone else for it, I doubt there are many like me who can withstand that compulsion.

Ah, but it is not the time to dawdle if I want to get to the Palace at a reasonable time…but then again, why should I hurry? The unexpected nightmare has messed up my mind, my thought are not usually this disorderly.

Exhaling deeply, I continue down the narrow, mossy steps, soon entering the marketplace. It is all but six but the marketplace is already wide awake and bustling. Sounds of bartering, laughter, vendors hawking their wares surround me and I feel safe. Then a voice I know well calls out to me over the sea of noise.

“Seraphin! Have you eaten? I’ve got those blueberry muffins you like so much in the oven. Won’t be long now.” The baker is a willowy man, quick on his feet and amazing at his job. He makes blueberry muffins to die for but my gut is still churning from my nightmare and then the unexpected words from the large man. I could not stomach anything and I also have a perfectly valid excuse.

“Sorry but I have an appointment to keep and shouldn’t be late!” I call back with a friendly wave. The baker nods at that, ducking back inside the sweet-smelling shop.

A raven, perched overhead catches my attention, meeting my gaze. Then its fathomless eyes look beyond me, over my shoulder. Curious, I glance back as well.

My heartbeat picks up when I spot someone I had seen just yesterday. The Doctor is moving casually through the crowd, without a mask or anything…Is that a smart idea?

Side-tracked, I go after him. He doesn’t seem to have spotted me yet even if I do stand out in a crowd, being both rather tall and having very long white hair.

He looks unguarded, surveying the market with leisurely interest. Is he not afraid of getting caught? This area is patrolled by the guards on regular bases. Then the raven shrieks and the Doctor turns around. Our eyes happen to lock. My eyebrow raises even as my pulse quickens with his gaze.

Something from the corner of my eye makes me take a step back just as a wooden wheel rolls over the place where my toes were a second ago and my attention is diverted. When it has passed, the Doctor is gone. Oh well, this is a good thing. What was I doing chasing him when I had places to be? I had already made up my mind to be on time.

Shaking my head, I turn back to join the flow of traffic. As I climb the well-worn steps, something catches my eye. It’s a fortune teller’s booth, tucked away in a shady corner. Rather nostalgic, Asra once operated out of a place like that with me when they had taken me with them on a journey. It had been short, mostly my fault as I had been jittery and restless.

As I’m lost in my musings, a patron emerges from the booth. I note their servant uniform from the Palace if a bit modified as the sweet voice of a young woman enters my ears.

“Lucky numbers, check. Groceries-” But she never finishes as we crash into each other, having not noticed that she had been backing up and I getting closer to them, in turn.

The young woman gasps in dismay when our crash upsets a basket balanced on her hip, sending dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs. It takes me a moment, teetering on the edge of a step before I stabilize myself and can assess the situation.

“Oh, perfect! As if I wasn’t already late…” The sarcasm is thick and I feel immediate fondness for that tone. At the same time I spot a pomegranate just as its about to be stomped under a stray hoof and quickly swipe it at the last second. When I offer it back to the young woman, her eyes sparkle with delight.

“Oh, thank you! How sweet of you to help.” Her smile is beautiful, bringing attention to the scattering of freckles under her eyes that are a blue-grey in colour and sparkling in delight. She seems such a sweet and cheerful woman herself.

“And after I bumped into you in the first place,” her voice brings me out of my musings as I smile back at her.

“I should have paid a little more attention myself too.” Then we finish hunting down the rest of the escapees. They’re a little bruised but really no worse for wear.

“Well, I can’t thank you enough!” With a smile she offers me her hand. The skin of their small palm rough against mine, calloused. Reminds me of my old hands but she doesn’t have nowhere as many scars on them as I did. Her hands are those of a servant and a gardener, not a fighter.

We come to a standstill.

“Probably shouldn’t be doing this buuuut,” rubbing it off on her white sleeve, she offers me a pomegranate from the basket. When I accept, she gives me another dazzling smile that warms my chest. She is so adorable, can we be friends?

“Take care, all right? I’ll see you around-” the young woman cuts herself off, her eyes widening when they take a closer look at me. “Wait, wait, wait! I know you!”

My eyebrow raises at that statement. I do not know her and the last I checked my memory was still functioning, sometimes too well even.

“You’re Seraphin, the magician. Countess Nadia said we were expecting you.”

Well, now that made sense. The Countess must have given a description of my looks so the servants and guards know who to look for. Can’t let anyone just claiming to be someone in the castle, bad for security and all that.

The young woman keeps talking: “You can call me Portia. I’m milady’s head servant.”

I smile back at them: “Lovely to meet you, Portia.”

“Ha, ha, aren’t you charming? Well, how lucky were we? Come on, I’ll show you the quickest path to the palace.” She offers and I am more than happy to comply.

As the sun raises across the sky, making its daily journey, Portia and I climb stair after seemingly infinite stair. The higher we ascend, the fewer travellers we encounter along the way. By the time we reach the top, I have worked up a sweat, my legs slightly aching. Looks like I have let myself go in this new body…

We pause at the top of the stairs and not too far away from the entrance gates.

“Seraphin…I’m glad you’re here,” she offers me a smile, “The Countess could use good help. And you look like a good sort to me.”

I do not know what to say to that, my eyes shifting to roam over the towering gate of twisted iron. It has already gotten late, the sky starting to turn dark. It only makes the Palace stand out more, being swirls of glittering spires and made of white stone, possibly marble.

When we approach the gate, two guards are standing on either side of them. Their eyes glinting at me from behind their helmets, weapons at the ready. But they lower them when they see Portia besides me.

“Ludovico, Bludmila, this is Seraphin. He’ll be staying as our guest.” Portia introduces me to them before glancing at me and pointing at each guard in turn, “Seraphin, Ludovico and Bludmila.”

The guards nod at me, their stiff posture relaxing before in unison, they push open the heavy iron gate.

“After you, Seraphin,” Portia executes a bow in jest and I smile at her as I walk past. The gates slam shut behind us as soon as we are through.

Portia leads me across a long, steep bridge in a straight path to the Palace’s main door. As I glance over the edge, I see some kind of eels twisting through the waters below. Glowing like bloodless ghosts. I only realize I had paused when Portia tugs on my arm, leading me on and away from the edge which I had subconsciously approached.

“Come on. We don’t want to keep milady waiting.”

I hum in reply and follow her. Soon approaching the intricate doors that lead into the Palace. Something foreign churns into my gut. The Palace overlapping with an image of a different one, similar spirals but different colours. But before the memories can overwhelm me, Portia’s sweet voice calls me back to reality.

“Here we are!”

She swings her fist against the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes. As the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the second updated chapter of today. Have fun reading it~


	4. Chapter III: THE EMPRESS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraphin has dinner with the Countess and then is accosted by a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Disclaimers apply: I do not own any of the characters of the game or the story plot of the game. I just own my Seraphin's backstory that differs from the game's apprentice.
> 
> No nightmares here but the next chapter...

Inside the palace, the floors, walls and steep ceiling are all clean-cut polished stone. The images overlap with images from my memory, making comparisons and noting the differences as a way to cope with the emotions that want to break free. But then a servant with a blue feathered cap comes sweeping up to us and the memories are banished once more. With a deep bow, they pass me and dash to Portia’s side.

“Chamberlain. How are we doing on time?” Portia is the first to speak.

“Impeccable timing!” The proclaimed Chamberlain exclaims, “The first course will be served shortly. Her ladyship has yet to descend.”

Portia heaves a sigh of relief before handing her fruit basket off to the bright-eyed servant. Considering that the servant uniforms are meant to be mostly white and the palace is mostly white…are they meant to blend in with their surroundings to become nearly invisible? I ponder upon that though as I note Portia asking the Chamberlain to tell the kitchen that I have arrived before turning back to me.

“I’ll show you to the dining room. Her ladyship will be here soon.” As Portia tells me that, I see the servant, after a curtsy, disappearing behind a panel in the wall which slides seamlessly shut. How intriguing. Just the servant entrances or part of secret paths across the palace? Maybe both?

But then, what Portia says, registers. Dining with the Countess? I would have preferred eating on my own or with the servants. Portia must interpret my look differently as she gasps in fake horror.

“What? Don’t tell me you thought we wouldn’t _feed_ you!”

Her laugh at the end is calming and I offer a smile before I am led to a fine mahogany door at the end of the cavernous entrance hall. She opens the door, ushering me inside. As I step into the dining room, rich scents fill my lungs, different from the palace food in my home world but still very tantalizing.

My eyes take in the long table that is laid heavy with platters of most careful delicacy. The sight is unfamiliar to me, I had never had the chance to attend feasts and all the meals at the palace were made to the specific numbers of people eating and we were not given a choice. My older brother had often told me that things had been different before the war but I was too young to remember any of that.

But then Portia pulls out a chair for me and I sink into a plush seat. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such luxury. I eye the food in front of me, my stomach raptly reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything due to my nightmare and the travelling. But now the hunger sets in with a vengeance. But it is nothing to wait, I have starved for longer than a day and the Countess has yet to arrive.

So I look around the room instead to take in more of the details of its grandeur. A painting that takes up third of the wall catches my attention almost immediately. A white goat-person? The centre figure in it offering a pile of food and dead animals to other people-animals around it. there is a dove, a cheetah, a lion, a bull, a cow and possibly death? It is a horse skull face. Now that I think about it, all those animals can match a card from the tarot deck. Is that just a coincidence? I take in the rays of golden glitter around the head of the goat, possibly the representation of The Devil card, its red eyes strikingly lifelike.

I near silent footsteps sounds to my left.

“Welcome, Seraphin. I see you are admiring the painting.” It is the Countess.

As I turn my head to look at her, she draws her own chair back, her lips curving into a placid smile when our eyes meet.

“Do you like it Seraphin? The painting?”

“Not particularly,” I answer honestly, The Devil card had always given me a bad feeling, their power tasting off compared to the other cards but similar to Death’s the card is not chosen too often.

The Countess laughs, “Such honesty! I must confess that I do not like it either.”

She pauses and gives me a searching gaze before she speaks again: “So why does it remain on the wall, you may ask? Sentimental value, I suppose. It was one of my husband’s favourites.”

As she speaks, a servant appears at my side to place a bowl of yogurt and cucumber soup before me. With perfect manners I had learnt in my previous life, I carefully bring it to my mouth and drink. I am rather glad that the manners don’t differ too much. There are differences in holidays and differences on how they send off their dead but manners are similar.

But then my mind snaps back to the words the Countess had spoken. Her husband’s. The Count. Ah, did I not meet his murderer last night?

As my thoughts wander, my eyes drift to the goat figure in the painting. Suddenly, its red eyes turn so vivid, I almost feel them returning my gaze.

Right…

Must be the tiredness making me imagine things. Very purposefully, I turn away from the painting and look at the Countess instead. I can admire her hair instead, a much better way to pass the time. It is so pretty.

Next, my empty bowl is whisked away, in its place a dish of flaky golden savouries. Then the Countess speaks again.

“The goat-headed one in the middle is Count Lucio or so it is supposed to be. Providing for the people as he saw himself. He certainly knew how to entertain. I know how fondly the people of this city remember the Count’s Masquerade.”

As she pauses in her speech to peer at me, I ruminate over her words. The Masquerade is something the people talk about a lot. But the last one that was held was just before the Red Plague ended three years ago, right before I was summoned and remade in this world.

“Did you ever attend the Masquerade, Seraphin?” She asks, a second later.

“No, I came here only three years ago,” I tell her, shaking my head. I cannot vouch for the other Seraphin thought. Do we look the same? I wouldn’t know. No one has said anything either.

“It was our annual revelry in honour of my husband’s birthday, a delight to all Vesuvia.” Her tone is wistful, her eyes looking far-away, then she sighs, “It’s a memory tinged with bitterness now. After the Count was murdered at the last Masquerade. Such a terrible shock to the guests.”

For the guests? What about herself? And I had heard many shabbier parts of Vesuvia jeer and jest about the Count’s death. I am not sure how beloved he really was by the poorer population and not just the rich.

“Such a vicious injustice upon this house. To slaughter the host while he celebrates, sharing his joy and prosperity with open doors?” She sounds scandalized but I do not feel strongly about this topic either way. I did not know him and I had been the cause of several nobles being assassinated myself with the information I had brought back to take out the danger to my side of the war.

But I do not wish to think about this. Maybe coming here was a mistake, it is bringing back too many suppressed memories that I do not wish to confront quite yet. I try to focus on my food instead but something keeps pulling my eyes back to that annoying painting so I think about the murder instead.

Count Lucio’s murder…The story is full of holes, muddied by wild rumours and unanswered questions. But the end is always the same. The Count retired to his chambers and by midnight, he and his chamber were engulfed in flames. The culprit was captured on the spot but before he could be brought to justice, he escaped. Ever since that day, guests to the Palace have been few indeed.

I look up just in time to meet the Countess’s keen gaze.

“But now that you are here…” she trails off.

What? What does me being here has to do with the murder? Her tone holds too much gravity, such confidence. Oh, no. No. Does she…?

“Countess, what does any of this have to do with me?” My voice sounds strained to my ears and at her look, she has noted it too. She continues on nonetheless.

“Seraphin, the Masquerade is precisely why I called you here. This year, I intend to hold the Masquerade once more.”

Her words drop like heavy stones in my gut, foreboding twisting around me.

 _That_ did not sound like a good idea to me at all. But was this the plan she had been talking about?

“Why?”

“Because I believe it’s the time to do so. The festivities in Lucio’s honour will be more fantastical than ever. There is but one loose end in need of tying. Count Lucio’s murderer still roams free, to this day. Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband’s former physician.”

My body stills, suddenly cold all over. Please don’t tell me…

“Doctor Devorak confessed to the crime when we caught him. All that is left is his sentence. Execution by hanging.”

My dawning horror is broken by a terrible crash that makes me jump, instinctively calling magic to hover just beneath my skin to answer at a moments notice if needed. Both of us turn our heads to see Portia, her face stricken by a different sort of horror to mine. At her feet, the broken remnants of our dessert are seeping into the floor.

“Portia?” The Countess inquires.

“F-forgive me, milady. Slippery hands.” But I can tell that there is more to this than slippery hands, I wonder if the Countess can too, she strikes me as an intelligent woman.

“You are forgiven,” the Countess gives her a nod before turning her head back to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see two servants rush to Portia’s aid, sweeping the shattered mess away with incredible speed.

“This is where you come in, Seraphin. Doctor Devorak has been very elusive. But you have quite the reputation. Rumour has it that you have surpassed even your Master Asra. I myself see the future, in dreams, whether I like it or not. And this is how I know that you are the one who will find Doctor Devorak…” her words press down like a noose about to suffocate me.

“But even then…why me? I am a magician, an apprentice even, not an investigator. Visions aren’t always correct. The future can be changed.”

She gives me a searching gaze, her eyes softening at whatever she sees.

“There is no need to be so nervous about this. All I ask is that you try. If my dream proves wrong and you do not find him, so be it.”

Er…I think, she might have mistaken my reasons. I do not want to look for anyone! This is too close to my job in my previous life and I did not want to face my past yet.

The Countess rises and on instinct I follow her example.

“Portia.” Silence greets us.

“…Portia.” Her voice is both stern and slightly concerned.

This time there is a hurried response: “Yes, milady!”

“Show Seraphin to his guest quarters. I imagine there is much to ponder before the night is out.” The Countess orders and Portia is quick to agree.

As the Countess disappears off to wherever she came from, Portia pulls me to my feet and whisks me to the doorway.

Portia is quiet as she ushers me down the hall towards my room. After a few turns, we pass a wide staircase, veiled in shadow. A draft rushes down from the floor above, prickling my skin. It’s cold and it smells of ash and curled up on the bottom step are two large, lanky dogs. Their eyes red and wearing golden collars.

Their fathomless eyes fix upon me and they rise slowly, without a sound. Though they look as thought they could strike at any moment, I can sense no ill intent and so I hold out my hand and they approach to sniff it. Their huffing breaths tickling my skin and their tails begin to slowly wag.

“Well, this is bizarre. They never take kindly to strangers.” Portia’s voice breaks the blankness my mind had settled into and I turn to look at her as she continues to speak. “That’s just how they were trained…but I’ve never seen them act like this.”

Cold noses with slim snouts brush up against my sides as the dogs continue to investigate me further. Once satisfied, they draw back, looking at me expectantly. There’s an intelligence in their gaze that seems more than simple animals. Were they magical? I take a careful step back, maybe they are someone’s familiars, better be careful.

The hounds seem happy enough to trot back to their spot on the stairs, blending into the marble for all but the eyes and the golden collars. Their eyes are fixed on me.

“Oh! No wonder they’re like this, they haven’t had their chamomile cakes!” Portia exclaims, wringing her hands before asking me to wait a moment and dashes off, through another sliding panel in a wall. Probably to get those cakes. But…who feeds their dogs cake? They must be magical then, I don’t think it’s healthy for normal dogs.

I’m left alone in the hallway with the dogs. They rise once more, the bigger one sniffing my side insistently. When I look down, it simply pulls back and stares back at me. Then the smaller one is sniffing my other side, huffing samples of my scent and when I turn my gaze on them…they sit back down on its hunches, watching me innocently. Cheeky but cute.

As I look into its sanguine eyes, an unsettling sensation of power ripples through my body like a wave of fever and an unfamiliar voice speaks.

“A guest?”

Soooo…looks like ghosts existed here as well or something? Or maybe I was jumping to conclusions.

My gaze darts around the corridor just in case there is someone I have overlooked. But, the voice clearly came from the top of the stairs and the only thing I can see is gloom. My eyes catch the dogs moving as they grasp at my shirt and start pulling me up those stairs unrelentingly, tails wagging. Definitely not your average dogs.

“Right, right!” I gasp at them, trying not to trip on the stairs at their dragging, “I am coming but it will go smoother if you let me go!”

Confirming my suspicions on them being special, they let go of my shirt and let me ascend the stairs myself, though they pay close attention as if waiting to see if I lied.

At the top, frigid stone walls and floors greet me, the smell of ash heavy in the air. There is chill in the air that tastes of power and my heart starts hammering. This is probably _not_ a good idea. But I have done many stupid things so what’s one more?

I summon a small ball of light, small swirl of happiness infusing me with warmth at the small act of magic. This was not something I could do in my home world, it was either shapeshifting or loud explosions, no middle ground. No small, simple things like light. I love this. It is wonderful.

But then there is a shuffle and a huff of a dog as I am headbutted by the bigger one. The meaning is clear. They want me to move. There is a door ahead, partway open and so I step forwards to see where it leads.

The darkness inside feels stifling, oppressive almost like it has a physical form that wants to swallow my light. I do not let it. The air stifles with its heat after the chilly hallway. The air has a strong, peppery taste.

I see a heavily canopied bed stretching midway across the room. An extravagant suit of armour is to one side of me. a marble writing desk with a white peacock feather pen right after. Everything is blanketed in ash.

Then my light illuminates a portrait on one of the wall, nearly twice my height. That’s tall…How was that painted? Ladders? Then my eyes take in the subject and I recognize the Count, having seen other pictures of him. He looks young in it, posing like he is a hero that has been bestowed upon lowly mortals. His chest out and clearly posturing. The red of his coat is the same cardinal hue from the painting in the dining room. The golden arm, a marvel of alchemical arts. It is strange to see, my world had healers that could regrow whole limbs so the magical world did not need prosthetics. The human one was too busy making weapons of destruction to care for such a thing.

A chill goes down my spine just as the voice before speaks again: “Go on. Touch it.”

A miasma of thick, scorching air pushes my hand towards the portrait. But I feel nothing but ash and canvas. There is snickering inside my head as a haze tries to settle over my mind, putting me on alert as I fight it off.

“Nothing like the real thing…seeing, unable to feel. Such sweet torture…” The voice mutters behind me, trying to do something…

Warmth like an ember radiates at the back of my neck and the magic in me reacts, sending sparks flying. The voice retreats with a gasp while I turn around to see…nothing. There is definitely a ghost here. Better to leave. I do not know how to deal with one and it could be dangerous.

As I make a move to retreat, another gust of warm air pushes me against the bed, sending great plumes of ash to billow around me.

“What?” I squawk as I inhale a mouthful of ash and splutter in indignation, trying to regain my feet. This was rather disgusting. What was ash doing on a bed anyway? Who would scatter them here on all places?

Laughter resounds around me before the voice speaks again: “Going so soon? You’re no fun.”

Ah, thank you but ash was not my cup of tea. I sniff at the air as I regain my feet, my whole outfit a mess now, feeling dirty. I wonder if I was allowed to take a bath here?

“Is there something you want?” I ask, glaring at the nothingness, straining my magical senses to see if I could feel the ghost or any presence at all. I succeed in feeling _something,_ but I cannot pinpoint it.

The laughter takes a higher pitch and I can feel the _something_ gathering behind me. You know what? This might just be a good time to leave. And so I make my retreat ignoring any further words he might want to say. I was so out of here!

The temperature starts falling enough that I can see my breath misting in front of me. Soon, I am back in the hallway and not far from the stairs. Just as my feet touches the first step to descend back down, what the voice says break through my senses.

“Come back…come back…”

Against all good sense, I stop and turn around.

I only see it for a moment. A silhouette, stark against a wall of high windows frosted with smoke. Claws, horns and hooves like an onyx. The white face of a goat, with red eyes fixed gleefully on me. I blink and it’s gone. I hear clambering off to the side, the creak of a door and then…silence. The hell?

By the time I stumble down the stairs, disoriented, Portia is looking around corners for me.

“There you are!” she cheers, smiling before she notes, the fine, powdery ashes coating me from head to toe from my tumble in that bed.

“What’s…Why are you covered in ash? What did those naughty dogs do?” She wonders as she produces a plain, white handkerchief and hands it to me.

“Thank you…umm, could I possibly take a bath here?” I ask hesitantly. I was a guest here but at what importance?

“Of course! You have a bathing chamber attached to your room so feel free to enjoy it.”

I am so happy to hear her words that my shoulders sag from relief and I lean down a little as Portia offers to help me dust off.

As her eyes dart around, trying to spot the dogs that have disappeared, she speaks: “You know what, I’m just gonna leave these cakes right here. Let’s take you to your rooms.”

Her words are music to my ears and I eagerly follow her lead until we arrive at our destination. Thankfully, it wasn’t much further.

She swings open the door with a sweeping gesture: “These will be your quarters, Seraphin. You can put your things wherever you like. Breakfast is at sunrise…I’ll wake you.”

I eye the room, letting my bag fall at the bedside. My eyes fall on the only other door in the room. That must be the bathroom. My yearning must be showing as she gives a light chuckle before speaking.

“I’ll leave you be then, Seraphin. Rest well.” With a last giggle she leaves, closing the door behind herself while I make for the bathroom and gasp at the large marble tub, installed into the floor, steaming with hot water. It is amazing. I am quick to get rid of all my dusty clothing and jump into the already prepared bath. Ah, that was much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the day late update, life sometimes throws unexpected gardening at you and takes up all your usually free time on Saturdays used for writing but here it is!
> 
> I am hoping to update the next one by Wednesday. But it could be early as well.


	5. Chapter IV: THE EMPEROR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraphin has another nightmare but life still goes on, plagued with doubt, he heads off to find the doctor, then has dinner with the Countess and goes exploring with Portia. Corresponds with the chapter of the same name of the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Disclaimers apply: I don't own the game characters or the story plot of the game, that all goes to the amazing creators.
> 
> Warning for nightmares in this chapter but once again nothing explicit is yet being written but might still happen in the future. Poor Seraphin can't get any peace from me.

_I am back on the black stone path, whipped by wind and rust-coloured sand. The thick, dark clouds hanging and swirling overhead are heavier than last night. But if I’m dreaming of this again, where is Asra? My eyes burn from the unforgiving wind that tears at the desolate landscape. It takes a moment for me to gather the will to look around for them in this condition._

_I spot them up ahead, riding on the lumbering beast but unlike the last time, I am not with them. They’ve stopped at a fork in the road; one going east, the other west. I move forwards to see if I can catch up, the wind roaring in my ears._

_After I have walked for a while, I glance up again to see Asra dismounting the creature, placing a hand on its hide. It turns down the path to the east. Asra walks west and something in me screams that they are going the wrong way._

_I try to scream at them, “Not that way!” but my voice is swallowed by the wind that has picked up its insistent roaring._

_And yet, they turns and even from the distance, I feel our eyes meeting._

“… _Seraphin?” Their voice is far off and realistically should be swallowed by the wind but somehow I still hear a whisper of it. I can hear longing and it cuts my heart, guessing the reason behind it. But they drop their gaze and continue down the westward path, fading from my sight. I scream a call at them again even as I feel the sand swallowing me again._

“ _No! NO!”_

_But I am in a cold place again. Water dripping somewhere, the floor slimy with un-nameable substances. Footsteps near me and HE appears in a dim light of a carried torch. Their smile dripping with evil intentions. I scream._

Darkness greets me when I am awoken by my own scream. I stumble off the bed and back into the bathroom, the nightrobe gets shredded as I rip it off me in haste to get naked. I use my magic to re-fill the bath with steaming hot water and jump into it, water splashing over the edges but I do not care. I shiver in the tub despite the hot water as images I had supressed dance across my eyes in a torturous dance. Coming here was a mistake. It is bringing back too many memories and I am scared to face them. I do not _want_ to face them.

“Hello? Seraphin?” Portia’s voice startles me out of my half-reverie as my eyes flicker to the open bathroom door then to the shredded nightgown and myself in the now cold water then back at her.

I can see her eyes fill with worry and I can feel tears prickle at my eyes. No one has seen me this vulnerable since I came here three years ago.

“Seraphin, what happened?” Her tone is soft as if she’s talking to a wounded animal.

“I…” Should I?

“I…”

She walks over, on her way pulling a towel from a pile before wrapping it around me, not minding that she is getting wet alongside it as she steps into the bath and gives me the softest hug I’ve ever felt. My mother's is close but she was a very lean and tall woman while Portia is small and curvy.

“It will be alright, Seraphin. Things will be alright.” She croons and I break, letting my tears fall.

“I-I h-had a night-nightmare,” I manage to whisper against her, feeling like a three-year-old again, seeking comfort.

“Oh, you poor dear but come now, the water is cold and you might get sick if you stay here.” I am pliant as she gets me out of the bath and helps me dry, still in shock to really grasp what’s happening or to feel shy or ashamed. She ushers me back into the bedroom and hands me unfamiliar clothing.

“These are from the Countess as yours were dirty.” She explains and I gather them to me, moving to change behind the partition I see in a corner, my mind beginning to switch on again. As I’m nearly there, I remember that she is now the wet one and in danger of becoming sick and manage to call my magic to me, willing for it to dry her.

A soft gasp and a thank you follows my action before I disappear behind the partition fully and get dressed. They are made from soft materials the like I haven’t worn in a very long time. But I refuse to delve on that, instead I put it on like an armour, locking everything in a box, they key thrown in another room entirely to be found later. I know that I cannot run from the memories forever. _I know._ But I am not ready yet. Not _yet._

As I step out again, I am fully back to myself and offer Portia a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Portia. I…I appreciated the comfort.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad that you are feeling better?” She gives me a hesitant smile back, I can see that I have worried her and I do not fully know how to deal with that. This being the biggest reason why I never said anything to Asra.

“I will be fine now,” I say but my words sound hollow to my own ears. Will I really be fine? But I refuse to dwell on that, instead changing the subject: “What’s on the agenda today?”

She gives me a searching gaze but must decide that I know best and doesn’t push for answers.

“The Countess wants you to meet her in the library once you’ve eaten. Here, look! I brought breakfast.” She points to a platter of small, delicate pastries. My stomach feels like lead but I force myself to eat some, washing it down with the provided orange juice. Soon, I am ready to depart, not wanting to dwell in the room, already tainted by nightmares and my slight breakdown.

We walk along the Palace halls until Portia stops before a panel in the wall, three times my height. It is crafted of smooth wood in all the colours of rippling honey. Carved with dazzling intricacy is a great tree in the height of maturity. Its leaves and fruit are inlaid with jewels, precious stones and mother of pearls. It is a beautiful masterpiece that must have taken years.

“It’s milady’s own work. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Portia explains while retrieving a ring of keys from her pocket. There are about a dozen, each carved of the same wood as the panel and each bearing a distinct jewel.

One by one, she finds their locks in the panel and with each key unlocked, the roots of the great tree start to unwind from each other, pulling free from the floor. When all the locks have been turned, the panel folds upon itself on either side like a paper fan to reveal books. Great bookshelves upon bookshelves filled with many, many books. And yet…it is smaller then the royal library back in my original world, even my family’s own library at the Duchy was bigger than this one. But it is still impressive considering I have not been anywhere else in this world with this many books.

The Countess is waiting for us, seated in a reclining chair that blends in with the room, most likely meant for visitors to come and enjoy the books undisturbed. Her eyes glitter with approval when she sees me and takes in my outfit.

“Seraphin. You look positively radiant.” The Countess gives me a smile for a greeting along the words. I nod at her in thanks, failing to muster a smile and distract myself by looking at the books and reading the titles on their bindings, at least the one’s who have their titles written there.

“Do you read?”

I nod in reply, glimpsing the Countess’s hint of surprise.

“Ah. Somehow, I suspected that you might. It is a great gift, to read. Where I come from, it is shared amongst all citizens. But woefully uncommon here.” Then she stands and turns to walk deeper into the library, “This way, if you please.”

Portia follows in our footsteps with the jingling ring of keys. I can’t stop myself from staring at all the books, wondering what information is beheld there. How long did it take them to collect them all? My fingers itch to run along their spines but I resist.

“Seraphin… you are my guest. If you should like to return here, you need only ask. But for the moment…” The Countess stops before an alcove, nestled between the shelves. “…I would have your undivided attention here.”

A desk stands in a slim ray of daylight, cast from a tiny window. Books, journals, papers and scrolls cover every inch of the desk. Despite the clutter, everything is carefully organized. This is clearly someone’s place of study, preserved in time.

It’s the Countess that disturbs my study of the messy work surface: “This was Doctor Devorak’s desk. He was employed at the Palace, as was your Master Asra. We called upon them to concoct a cure for the plague.”

She continues on listing all the people that had been invited to aid the research of the cure, mentioning that perhaps the Doctor was already plotting at the time. Once she finishes, her gaze shifts to the window, overlooking a large willow tree which hangs over the fountain in the garden below.

“I have had the desk and its contents examined laboriously. Nothing of consequence has been found. But perhaps you will make better use of it. It is the best lead I can offer. The search for Doctor Devorak is now in your hands. You may proceed as you see fit. I ask only that you meet with me for dinner this evening.” She draws away, passing me and perfuming the air with jasmine before smiling serenely and sweeping out of the room. Portia follows in her wake and I am left alone.

I eye the desk like it could bite me at any moment. Nothing happens. I stare some more. Still nothing.

“Guess I am doing this after all,” I mutter to myself, wrinkling my nose. “See if I ever answer a midnight call again.”

I take in the Doctor’s desk. There is a stack of books, a leather-bound folio and scrolls tucked away in a little row of drawers. Not to mention all the loose sheets of paper. Must I really make sense of all this?

With a long sigh, I pick up a well-loved tome and start flipping through the pages. It looks like a surgical guide. Some of the diagrams are stained with old blood. How unhygienic…Many of the pages are scrawled over by one of the most atrocious handwritings I have ever seen. It is hard to make out the words and I can’t really make myself to bother. I flick it shut and pick up the portfolio next. It’s paper pages a little gold with age and thin, almost transparent. A meticulous drawing catches my eye. Its neat lines contrasting sharply with the Doctor’s messy writing. I _know_ what this diagram represents. And I fling the portfolio shut even as I feel a trace of desperation and single-minded purpose. A faint trace of the Doctor but I can’t make myself to touch the sheet of paper, feeling slightly green.

Instead, I move to the scrolls, unfurling one at random. The paper is soft, almost powdery to the touch. It is written in a hurried, fluid scrawl that is nearly impossible to read but then again, I was trained in reading any and all types of handwriting. A must in information gathering. My eyes flicker to the bottom of the page where a single, cursive ‘J’ sits, separate from the rest of the writing.

Flicking my eyes back on the top, I decipher a ‘Dear sister’. This is clearly a letter he wrote and as my hand holds the paper, my magic picks up a sharp jolt of strong longing and old regret. This is clearly something else the Doctor felt strongly about which I could use to track him down. I roll up the scroll and tuck it into my bag. I do not think about what I’m doing. I simply let my magic guide me as I glide out of the library, down several halls and out of the Palace entirely, beginning my trek back down into the city.

The sun has started to dip low in the sky by the time I have reached deep into the city, my magic guiding me to the poorer district and into less illuminated streets. I end up in a narrow, slippery street at the south end of Vesuvia. Clustered apartments line the passage and murky reddish water swirls in the sluggish canal. The shabby cobblestones layer like scales with dirt. I can feel that he must be somewhere close.

“Oh, I’ll be back. Just stepping out for some air,” like on cue, I hear his voice as a door not far from me swings open, casting warm light down three jagged stone steps.

I freeze my mind suddenly catching up on what I had done. Now that I had found the Doctor, what was I meant to do? What did I even want to do? My decision results in me attempting to step quietly backwards when something catches my heel and I topple into an empty barrel. ‘Great, just what I so desperately _needed.’_ I hiss in my mind as I swing an arm over my eyes to attempt to bleed into my surroundings so I wouldn’t have to face anyone.

Then he speaks again and its definitely aimed at me: “Hello, that was quite a tumble, are you all right?”

There is silence when I refuse to answer or remove my hand from my face. Maybe he will go away.

“Did you get hurt?” Oh, no. now he sounds concerned.

With a sigh, I remove my hand just in time to see him leaning over me and offering a hand. He rears back when he sees my face.

“The…the shop-keep? What are you doing here?”

“Pretending that I don’t exist,” comes out from my mouth before I can stop myself and I can feel the heat climbing up my face as I flush. He chuckles at my comment before offering me his hand again and I accept with all the grace I can muster while stuck in a barrel.

His grip is firm, the leather gloves cool against my skin as he grips both of my wrists and hauls me out like a snail being shucked from its shell. The movement enough to unbalance me, causing me to end up falling on his broad, gleaming chest for a moment. I look up and his eye meets mine as they widen at our sudden proximity, now being his turn to flush a bright red. Which makes me think…do I even blush red anymore? My skin is a golden brown and Asra has never blushed in front of me and I do not have much experience with darker skinned people blushing in front of me. But then the Doctor is offering me a friendly pat to my arms, releasing me and I regain my feet, standing on my own. My eyes shift to look more closely to where we are, realizing that he came from a tavern that’s well-hidden from the street. Painted on the door is a black cackling bird, lying back on a crescent moon. ‘The Rowdy Raven’, it reads.

“Dare I ask, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” His voice brings my eyes back to the Doctor.

I open my mouth but no words come out. How do I even begin to explain? I wasn’t really thinking when I did this! And that’s like the biggest problem! But the Doctor, ignorant of my true thoughts, gives me a knowing look and casts a glance to the open door, its warm light glows between us. He turns to me with a glint in his eye.

“Rumour has it that you’re working for the Palace. I’m sure-well, by now-you’ve heard some interesting stories about me.” Not really, he has just been accused of murder and I have heard that and more, years ago from rumours from the citizens of this city and not the Palace.

When I say nothing, he speaks again: “But you haven’t heard my side of the tale, have you?”

“You could always tell me, right?” I finally speak, now having some kind of a purpose. All the rumours are a mess, the information inconsistent. Who even knows what happened but the dead Count and the Doctor? And what if the Doctor didn’t do it? No one but the real murderer would know then and I would be left gathering information from scratch.

“Indeed,” he agrees, “And I do still owe you for the reading. Are you thirsty? My treat.”

I am curious enough to nod a yes. I haven’t touched much alcohol apart from the few times Asra has taken me drinking and even then I never drank much. Being drunk meant lessened instincts and a sluggish mind and that was _dangerous_. It was better not to risk it even if I was meant to be safe in this world. One never knew.

His face splits in a brilliant grin at my nod and my hart seems to falter at the sight of it for some reason.

“Oh, fantastic. Please, allow me,” he eagerly gestures me towards the door, with a pleased exclamation. He eases the door open, leading me through to the warmth inside.

It’s not even sundown but the tavern is in full swing. The noise is cacophonous. The barkeep; wide, scar-faced and barrel-armed, gives the doctor a cheeky salute when we pass by. A cackling drunkard swings out a wooden leg which the Doctor politely pushes aside. Tutting, my escort guides me to a cosy booth all the way in the back.

“You make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” With those words, he breezes past me towards the bar.

I take a seat before glancing around, taking note of the windows big enough for people to jump through comfortably, two other doors besides the one we entered through before starting to note down the people themselves.

Nearby, a pair of old crones are hunched over a card game, attended by a squabbling crowd. Several loners dot the corners drinking by themselves, another alcove has a couple acting all lovey-dovey with each other. Up at the bar, the doctor chats with the barkeep. They both erupt into peals of laughter at some joke. He looks perfectly at ease, so different from when I met him at the shop.

Soon, he turns, making his way back with our drinks. He sets mine before me while sliding into the booth across from me, gulping down his own drink with gusto. That was rather fast…

I look down to peer into my own drink, a golden liquid slowly sloshing from the movements of being carried to the table. It smells faintly like fruit and after a moment, I take a sip. It’s refreshing, barely sweet and fizzes on the way down.

“You know, I never did get your name.” Fingers interlocking on the table between us, he gives me a look of encouragement.

‘That would be because I _never_ told _you._ ’ Ahem, anyway, I better answer properly: “It’s Seraphin.”

“Ahh. Seraphin, what a lovely name.” My heart skips a beat.

“A musical name. _Seraphin._ ” He tries again and my heart stutters further. Oh no, was I developing a crush?

He offers me his hand with a charming smile and while feeling heat creep up my face, I place mine in his leather clad grip. His smile broadens to a toothy grin. I look him dead in the eye and get to the point.

“You said you’d tell me your side of the story.”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I? How careless of me,” he laughs at my raised eyebrow then he leans back in the booth, letting my hand fall, long limbs going every which way. Somehow my mind dubs it as adorable.

Was this really the time for that? Apparently, my mind thought that it _was._

“All right, ask anything you like.” He lets me lead and so wordlessly, I reach into my bag and hand him the scroll from the library. Once he starts reading, the smile slides from his face. He leans over the page, frowning in concentration.

“Where did you find this?” Julian asks but I am momentarily distracted by how well the light of the candle illuminates his face and slightly open chest in yellow-orange glow. How fit and beautiful. But then my logical mind switches on and I manage to answer, somehow sounding normal.

“It was on your desk. In the Palace’s library.”

As I am watching him like a hawk, I see the flinch of pain that crosses his face before he looks away. This sister of his must be important to him. This warms me towards him, having adored my own older brother a lot and liking anyone who cared a lot for their families.

“Well,” he is stalling, “It’s a letter but you knew that. Dear so and so…”

I decide to push him: “Dear sister.”

His eye flicks up to me, mortified: “You-you can read this?”

Not like the Doctor can know that I was trained in deciphering all and any types of handwriting as I give him a nod. Before I can offer to read it for him, he starts doing so on his own. His words are broken by hesitant pauses. Soon after he starts to massage his temples or pinch the bridge of his nose. By the time he is finished, he looks wistful, drained. I can relate.

He rolls up the letter, handing it back to me. Absent-mindedly he reaches for his stein, tossing the rest of his drink down his throat. Somehow, I find even that action attractive. A crush has been confirmed. It’s been four years since my last crash and I had no time to see where my last one could lead, war being at a crucial point and both of us busy.

A hum escapes me as I bore my eyes into the Doctor’s form. We really haven’t talked about his side of the story, yet. Not like him having a sister was going to lead there so really, me asking about that didn’t make a lot of sense. Was I trying to avoid this just as much as the Doctor was clearly stalling for time?

His ‘Excuse me’, catches my attention from my ruminations and I watch as he raises, whisking the empty steins away, heading back to the bar.

My eyes are drawn back to the old crones playing cards when shrill bickering erupts amongst the gathered crowd. The Doctor, on his way back, whispers to one of the crones, tapping a single card in her hands. The card is played, throwing the crowd into chaos. The Doctor ducks away just as someone douses him with their drink.

I track down several droplets trickling down his abdominal muscles that he attempts to wipe off himself. He is chuckling softly when he slips back into his seat, giving me a wide smile before speaking.

“You would think I’d know better than to get involved.”

‘I don’t mind at all, really, feel free to get doused again.’ I have plenty of self control not to say that aloud.

Instead I ask him something else: “You’re not worried about being seen?”

“Here? Nooo. No. I’m not too worried. Folks around here aren’t known to, uh, to oblige the wants and wishes of the Palace. Even the raven spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively.” His smile is plenty of charming as he explains things here. That make’s perfect sense. Every town has places where the authority is not respected but feared. Even up into my part of the town, there is no small measure of fear for the guards along the respect.

Suddenly a raven bursts in through a dusty window overhead, flying in loops with a guttural shriek. The bird beats himself against a string of bells and the tavern erupts into chaos.

“Guards! Palace guards!” The Barkeep translates and immediately, all the patrons begin to claw their way out every door and window, playing cards tossed and fluttering in the air.

My mind blanks when the Doctor scoops me bodily from my seat and rushes me out the back door and back into the alley, displaying the strength hidden in his wiry form. The Doctor casts a frantic glance up and down the alley before crowding me into the shadows.

“You’ll be able to find your way, yes? The guards aren’t after you…” His voice all but a worried whisper.

All I manage is a nod, still reeling from him having lifted me. My mind screaming at the adorableness of the action.

Then the Doctor clasps my upper arms and looks deep into my eyes: “Thanks. For not, well…thanks, Seraphin.”

Then he backs off me, turns and vanishes, leaving me all alone in the silent, shuttered alley. Now what do I do? My heart is racing and my mind is consumed with cooing over his actions, am I a teenager again or what? What a great time to fall for someone, especially someone wanted for murder. What was wrong with my mind?

I am pulled out from my spiralling thoughts by a shout. When I whirl around, I spot two armed guards appearing at the alley entrance. They march towards me but when they’re close enough to see my face, they stop.

“Oh. The Countess’s magician.” One of them recognizes me and offers me a short, sharp bow, “Ahem, I’m Ludovico. We met yesterday, at the gates.”

I give them both a nod and a greeting in response but seeing them reminded me of something the Countess told me in the morning.

“Ah, I’m supposed to dine with the Countess again tonight. But it’s getting late…”

Ludovico briskly waves off my unmasked question: “We’ll hail you a carriage back. Don’t want to keep the Countess waiting.”

Following which he leads me back to a broader street, hails a gilded carriage and closes the door behind me. The Palace looms over the carriage as it approaches, a white monolith against the twinkling night sky. Portia’s waiting for me at the gates, ready to help me out of the carriage. She’s unusually quiet, not at all her usual cheerful self. I look over her mass of curly ginger hair, put in a bun and tied around with an orange and red striped bandana, then at the Doctor’s mass of auburn, short but curly hair. Their faces have some similarities even with the Doctor’s high cheekbones and sharp jawline. What are the chances that Portia is his sister? But I keep silent as she leads me back into the palace and we take the same path as yesterday towards the dining room.

The grand door swings open as we arrive to reveal an extravagant meal, piled high upon the long table. Everything is richly seasoned with rare spices. I can recognize the scent of saffron wafting towards me.

“You’re right on time, Seraphin. I hope your day was fruitful.” The Countess is already seated in the same seat she took yesterday. A servant seats me and fills my glass with a pale rose beverage. The delicate floral aroma reminds me of the Countess’s perfume.

“First. Let us attend to some small matters. My courtiers are most eager to meet you. I shall introduce you to them tomorrow afternoon. They will want to know everything about you but choose wisely what you wish to tell. I will be informing them of the Masquerade as well, I imagine they will be ecstatic.”

I do not like her words, I have little experience with courtiers, spending most of the time away on the field. The ones I had met were all battle hardened and no-nonsense type. There were a few who could escape the touch and despair of the war that occurred back in my home world. I sincerely hope that they have finished it by now. But I still remember to give her a nod. Unless I run away, this meeting is inevitable.

She follows with explaining to me that Portia will be leading a retinue into town square to announce the Masquerade so it can be spread around before ending it on an ominous note of: “I imagine the crowds will be eager to see Count Lucio’s murderer hang.”

My mind drifts back to the image of the Doctor, bathed in the warm welcoming light of the tavern, swinging from the gallows. The image sits heavy in my gut but I am well practiced in keeping my thoughts to myself so nothing shows on my face.

“But these are tomorrow’s matters. Tonight, Seraphin, I have questions.” And with these words the topic is changed.

“Questions?” I brace myself for any possible queries about where I went and what I’ve been doing. But nothing of the sort comes, instead she says:

“Yes. I wish to become familiar with you.”

Huh, how unexpected. Did she want to be friends? Or just closer acquaintances?

“Let us be strangers no longer,” She begins before confirming my thoughts, “May tonight be the beginning of a valuable friendship.”

She starts with simple questions. How I enjoy the town, my daily going on, my favourite thing to eat. I ask her questions in turn and learn that her favourite food is spiced swordfish. Which she explains in a summer dish in Prakra, the country she comes from and how she liked eating it every night. Prakra, being a vast land in the North. Her words confirming the rumours that she came from there.

“The kitchen does try to humour my requests but alas, they can never seem to spice it quite right.”

“Do you ever miss living there?” I ask in curiosity, having experienced the hollow feeling that comes with missing a familiar place that holds many fond memories. But where Prakra is only a journey away, my home is an entirely different world. I wonder how my family is doing… But I force my thought away and look at the Countess instead.

She is currently looking down into her glass, a thoughtful air around her, elegant fingers curling delicately around the stem.

“Perhaps. I don’t think I would ever return to Prakra but there are things I miss about home. Often when I was feeling morose, I would take a walk down to the white beaches of my homeland. Observing the opalescent waves crash over the sands would soothe my worried soul.”

The bittersweet expression on her face as she speaks of her homeland makes her look years younger and my heart reverberate with empathy and jealousy both. Even if she doesn’t want to go back or doesn’t plan to, it is still an option but that is not so in my case. Somehow, I still notice that the servants are listening as they work, watching the Countess and I with wondering eyes. Hmmm…

“Well, if we are to reminisce, perhaps we should do so somewhere more private. Would you care to join me on the veranda for a nightcap?” She looks down at me, a soft smile tugging at her lips before she continues, “Just the two of us.”

Then she holds her hand out towards me, waiting expectantly. A second later, I take it, wondering where this will lead. Her grip is warm and firm, her hand having some callouses I recognise from having learnt how to fight with a bladed weapon. She looks pleased at my decision as she begins to lead me out to a veranda.

A cool night breeze greets us. The star-filled sky is bright and vast overhead. No servant follows us, it being just the Countess and me and the brilliant stars overhead.

“Have a seat,” she offers, gesturing at the plush chairs and I settle down, shifting to get comfortable. She picks up a crystal decanter filled with a pale liquid and pours us both a glass. More alcohol? I better take it easy and barely sip this, who knows how strong the stuff the Doctor gave me was.

“Elderflower cordial. One of my favourites.” The Countess’s voice interrupts my appraisal of the poured drink and I glance up at her. She is staring off into the garden, sipping the cordial daintily before her gaze turns back to me and smiles warmly.

“You are…quite different from how I imagined you. I will admit, I find your presence quite intriguing.” Her words startle me.

“How did you imagine me to be, then?”

“What a hard question to answer…more talkative? Social? It is hard to explain.” But her answer still makes sense as does her notions. To be a magician, especially one that does fortune telling, one needs to talk to a lot of people, draw in the costumers, make them believe you and so forth.

“Tell me, Seraphin. Why did you come to the Palace? Why agree to help me?” She voices out next when I offer no response to her answer.

It’s only my poker face that saves me from displaying my surprise. I have no memories of giving a verbal agreement that I will be helping her. Especially now that a crush has formed on the Doctor. I would prefer if someone other than me brought him to justice or whatever. But maybe helping to unravel this mystery will help me to face my own demons.

“I…I suppose that I was curious.” I finally answer, speaking what feels like the most correct answer as to why I answered her request.

“Curious?” Her dainty eyebrow lifts at my answer, “And have you satisfied that curiosity?”

“No, nothing has been satisfied at all,” I answer with more honesty.

I watch as a long tendril of hair falls into her face when she tilts her head at my answer.

“It is refreshing to sit with a honest individual. There are so many questions in this world… Perhaps we can discover some answers together.” Her gaze rakes over me for a moment longer, lingering on my face, her look searching. But then shifts her attention away again before speaking again.

“Do you have any more questions for me, Seraphin? Know that you are free to speak in my presence.”

One question burns within me, that has not been satisfied and feels important, “Why me?”

For someone I met two days ago, prophetic dreams notwithstanding, she is putting too much faith in a virtual stranger. She does not strike me as a foolish person, quite the opposite.

“A prudent question, Seraphin. You are wise to wonder at my motives. When I came to your door, I was looking for an answer. I thought you might be it. If I’d arrived that night and found you wanting, I would not have invited you here. But there is something about you… I believe you are worth the risk.”

She pauses her long speech to drain the rest of her cordial glass while I have yet to even take a sip.

“Where you frightened to see me, I wonder? You certainly seemed startled. But you have nothing to fear, I assure you. I have no patience for the swindlers who prowl the market, preying on weak and weary souls. But what I feel from you…is different. It’s intriguing. And promising.”

Huh, besides suspicion from enemies, I’ve never been called intriguing. But promising is the whole reason I became an informant. The reason why I ended up captured and consequently died. Sometimes I wonder how my life would have fared if I had not been promising but I am entirely going off topic. I was feeling exhausted, two nights of weird dreams followed by nightmares and it was hard to make my thoughts focus on just the important pieces.

“Ah, but it seems like you’ve had a long day,” the Countess speaks again as she looks at what must be my tired appearance, “I shall not keep you any longer. Thank you, for coming to the Palace. My dreams did not lead me astray.”

Then she smiles and picks up a small silver bell, its handle carved into the shape of a swan’s neck and rings it. The door to the veranda opens immediately as Portia bustles in.

“You rang, Milady?”

The Countess nods: “I did. Please show Seraphin back to his guest rooms.”

Portia agrees immediately and leads me into empty hallways. She seems to have regained her cheerfulness as joy radiates from her. Her cheerfulness is strong enough to affect me too, my mind clearing a bit and some energy seeps back into my bones.

“Here, I’ll show you a shortcut back to your room. Juuuuust in case Mercedes and Melchior,” which I assume must be the two dogs, “are sulking around again.”

Following which, she leads me down a narrow, dusty hallway. Her fingers find the edge of a moth-eaten tapestry. With a dramatic flourish, she reveals a secret passage on the other side. She throws a smile and a wink my way, gesturing for me to step in.

“Do all the servants know the secret hallways or just some of them?” I ask, consumed by a new curiosity.

Her soft laugh echoes down the gloomy hallway and her eyes glitter with mischief at my question.

“Oh, there are some that everyone knows of but then there are some only a few know of. And really, it’s my job to know everything around here. Including little tricks like this.”

It’s dim on the other side of the tapestry, the floor uneven beneath my feet. I have no idea where we are but Portia seems to know exactly where she’s going. I do not forget to commit this hidden shortcut to my memory with the rest I had seen being used. One never knew when they might come in handy.

“You know, things have gotten a lot more interesting around here since you showed up. And all the rumours floating around, my goodness! You’d think we had nothing to do but chat!” Portia cheerfully informs me as she leads me along the dusty halls.

“Do you collect a lot of rumours, then?” I wonder while looking around in the dim light.

“Why? Something you wanna tell or ask me, Seraphin?”

“Hmm…” I don’t really know where to begin if I was to tell her of my suspicions of her being the Doctor’s sister. Silence being the better part of valour or something.

After a few twists and turns, we’re out of the narrow passage and back in the guest wing. It seems servants came during the day to tidy up. There is no more evidence left of my shredded nightgown or the wet towels or soppy floor. Instead, they’ve placed a fresh pitcher of water on the desk and made the bed I had left in disarray. At the still open bathroom, I can see the gleaming spotless tiles and a new bath prepared.

When I drop my bag at the foot of the bed, the scroll from Julian’s desk rolls out. Portia spots it, looking like she is dying to ask me questions but falters before it can escape her lips.

“You seem concerned,” I offer instead. The paper is rolled up so you can’t see the writing so she can’t know it’s from the Doctor if he is indeed her brother.

“Concerned? Me? Maybe. It’s just…the doctor…he can’t be the only suspect, right? Just between you and me…I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies, too. I wasn’t working here when it happened. I’ve only heard rumours of what went on that night. Just…keep your eyes peeled for anything strange, alright?” Portia stutters an explanation and a suggestion that all might not be as it looks but I already suspect that.

But it doesn’t look like anything can keep her down or worried for long as she then smiles, the worry clearing from her face. Leaning in close to me, voice low, she near whispers an offer.

“Y’know…if you’re not too tired yet, I could show you around the palace. There’s a lot of interesting things on the grounds. Maybe I could show you some more secrets…If you think you can handle them.”

Oh? Is that allowed? Should I ask that or should I just take her up on the offer and gather even more information on the Palace?

Propriety wins out in the end and so I first ask: “Is that allowed?”

“Why wouldn’t it be allowed? You’re not a prisoner here, y’know! You look like you can keep a secret. I’m not too worried.”

Not a prisoner…Right. This county is not at war. This land in general seems to be in an era of peace currently. Sometimes I forget that.

“Show me the secrets, then,” I am curious enough to want to know more. If there is another part of me that likes to be aware of as many possible escape routes for just in case, it remains for me only to know.

“I knew I’d like you, Seraphin. We’re gonna be great friends. C’mon, let’s go! I’ll show you the really good stuff.” Portia’s lips stretch into a dazzling smile before she hooks her arm around mine and leads me off down the hall, a bounce in her steps. After pushing open some sliding doors, she leads us into a vast kitchen. Someone in a flour-dusted apron lifts their head and smiles as they see us enter, waving cheerfully to Portia and asking if Portia is still on duty.

“Noooot exactly. I’m just showing Seraphin around the palace!” Is her cheerful answer, while she points at me, still in her grasp.

“Here, new recipe I’m trying out!” The chef tosses Portia a roll from across the wooden counter. She catches it without looking, then turns to me.

“If you ever find yourself hungry at midnight, the door’s always open. Just make sure you don’t ruin Hestion’s breakfast prep. I’m not responsible for any harm that might befall you.” Portia winks at me as she slides me another roll and slips out of the kitchen before Hestion notices.

“We’ll use a secret passage to get to the veranda. Saves a lotta time when you’re in a hurry. Just a warning, it’s kind of…creepy, though.” She explains as she takes us to the end of a small hall.

We’re standing in front of a large painting of the two dogs, Mercedes and Melchior, I believe is what Portia named them. A pile of pomegranates spill out at their feet. Their paws are stained red with the juices. Then Portia grips the edge of the painting and swings it open, revealing a secret archway beyond.

“Think you could help us out with a little light, Seraphin?”

I nod and begin to focus my magic, producing a large ball of light to float ahead of us so both of us can see comfortably.

“Wooow, would you look at that?” She whistles at the display and I smile at her.

We pass through the arch, into a larger dusty passage. The walls are lined with paintings of animals…All pure white with red eyes that glint like rubies in the dim light. Portia beginning to explain that it used to be the Count’s ‘Menagerie Gallery’ but how nobody came here anymore. Retelling ghostly rumours instead.

“They say there’s a ghost wandering these halls. And if you follow its voice…you’ll never be seen again!”

“Has that ever happened?” I wonder aloud, thinking back to my own ghostly experience of the goat.

“Oh sure. Servants are always popping up after shirking their duties, saying the gallery ghost got them. And usually turns out they just fell asleep in the larder and wanted to blame a ghost. No doubt there’s some weird stuff going on around here…But I wouldn’t worry about it. Just don’t go wandering off into any dark, creepy hallways alone.”

Does she not believe in ghosts or is this bravado? I can’t tell and neither do I wish to recount my personal encounter with the ghost that might hunt here too. Then, we reach the end of the hallway and Portia swings open a small door, letting us out onto the veranda.

The veranda is surprisingly busy as we arrive, full of servants in varying states of activity. Cheerful voices greet us, people calling out to Portia as we pass. I idly listen to their bickering, gathering that Portia is very well liked here and friendly with everyone. Their topic, unsurprisingly revolves around my presence but I make no comments and they offer none in return.

I note how the servants who are always attentive and alert when I’m with the Countess, are now more relaxed. A few are taking a break by the bannister, leaning against it and chatting. One of them, a tall and lanky, gives Portia a lazy smile as we head down the stairs and offering her a good night.

Once she finishes her chats with the other servants as we head into the grounds, towards the maze, Portia turns to me: “It’s getting pretty late… but I’ve got one last stop before the end of the tour. I think you’re gonna really like it.”

She takes my hand that had been released upon entering the ghostly hallway, leading me through the winding hedges. We reach a crumbly old arch covered in carved stone roses. The top has collapsed, leaving only the supports. On the other side of it is a dead end but I can feel a whisper of magic licking at my skin as we approach it.

“Check this out.” Portia cheers, laughing and pulling me through the arch. And just like that, the scenery changes and we step out into a hallway in the Palace. Brightly lit but out of the way, in the distance I can hear servants chatting.

“Isn’t it amazing? I bet there’s portals like this all over the palace, leading to lots of different places. Maybe you can help me find more. I bet a great magician like you would have no problem finding them all.” Portia gushes at the portals and the possibility of me finding more of them, “But I’ve kept you long enough. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow…you’d better get some sleep.”

With the lasts words, she leads me back to my guest room. But just as she is about to leave the room, she pauses.

“Oh! I almost forgot, Milady wants you to join us in town tomorrow for the announcement. So… I’ll see you in the morning, Seraphin. Thanks for coming with me tonight.”

Then she turns back to squeeze my shoulder before leaving me alone in the room and to my thoughts. Today has been another tiring day and I am feeling drained, especially with my lack of proper sleep. A bath is just what I need as I head for the bathroom and heat the water with my magic and slip into the relaxing heat. I blank my mind and think of nothing, simply counting the tiles around the room until I am feeling sleepy.

Dragging myself out of the water, I dry myself with nary a thought before pulling on my back-up nightgown and slip under the cool covers. Within seconds I fall asleep. Thankfully, I do not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated on time this time! Yay~   
> Don't know when the next one is coming, thou. i have it have it half written but messed up a part and need to re-write it so it's taking a bit longer than usual plus life is busy at the moment. But it should happen by next Monday the latest.


	6. Chapter V: THE HIEROPHANT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraphin has another run in with Julian, meets the Courtiers and decides that maybe it is time to face his trauma and memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Disclaimers apply: I do not own the story plot of the game or it's characters. That honor goes to the game developers, good job to them.
> 
> Hello people, I still live! I got a job which means less time spent writing but I am determined to keep updating at least once a week if not twice. I shall see how it goes.

On the morning of the Masquerade announcement, I come to check up on my shop and most importantly, my flowers. I also need to get another nightgown…which reminds me that I should buy a new one to replace the one I shredded. What an embarrassing reason to replace clothing, huh? This body can be strong as well when I do not pay attention to what I’m doing. Sometimes I doubt if I’m really as human as I’m meant to be in this world, there was no questions about my un-humanity in my home world. Did some of it change with how I was remade in this world? I had been a newly dead soul and had still retained all my powers. They could have mixed and created something new for all i knew.

But to be honest, besides an explosion here or there in unconscious self defense, I have not tried to use any of my gifts from my past life to see if I could still use them. I was…too terrified. My shifting is what got me killed and the trauma was still there. Ah, sometimes I wish that I had not seen a healer in my free time, off missions, maybe then ignoring my problems would be easier. But she would scold me for such thoughts and I would not want to disappoint her. But I’m at my shop now and I shall leave the thinking for later.

Hopping up the steps, I press my palm to the door and release the sealing spell before I spot a small leather pouch resting on the stoop. Huh, must be the big giant man who left this once more, he smells strongly of myrrh and myrrh is the strongest smell from the mixture in the pouch. A magical mixture for protection. How sweet of him to keep doing this from time to time. I really do must ask him his name the next time I see him, just be careful about using it, after that. I don't think anyone can read minds here, right? That wasn't a thing in my world either so...

Hmph.

Oh well, maybe the giant man won’t mind making another friend even though that seems contradictory to the usage of the spell that makes everyone forget him. But drawing conclusions too soon can lead to many problems. It's better to ask things or have no assumptions. Which can be hard but...I was getting sidetracked.

I pocket the pouch before fishing out my keys and undoing the locks. Once done, I begin to push the doors open before something or someone swings them open for me and nearly causing me to collapse forwards. When I look up, I see the last person i expected to see. In my shop. _Again_.

The Doctor.

Somehow.

_Once more._

That’s it, I’m warding the back door with magic too and Asra can surely unlock them too or just knock! One never knows when someone with lockpicking skills will show up! After a pause, he speaks first.

“Well, hello there. Fancy seeing you here.”

My stare must be truly unimpressed at his words as he begins to blush.

“Ahem,” the awkwardness is thick but I refuse to break it, this in now the second time he has broken in, “Or maybe not so surprising. I, ah, I was in the neighbourhood. And you look, er, splendid! Marvellous…I’ll stop wringing my hands…”

The blush has only intensified. How cute. But still!

Then I remember that I have things to do and that I can do them while talking to the Doctor so I push him inside the shop with enough strength that he goes stumbling backwards. I close the door behind me, ignoring his spluttering at my treatment.

“Why on earth did you break in again? Was once not enough? Are you looking for something? And how do you keep getting inside anyway?” I fire my questions as I sweep my eyes across the shop and don’t see anything disturbed amongst the shelves here. Then my eyes train back on him.

“Er…well…I mean…I didn’t…umm, I have a key.” The Doctors finishing statement makes me curious.

“A key?”

“Yes, here,” he says and pulls a key from his pocket which I immediately match with the one for the back door. “If it makes any difference, you can take it. I won’t be using it again. That’s…that’s a promise.”

I take the offered key and put it in my satchel, wondering where he got it from. The only other person who has the keys to the shop is Asra. Do the two of them know each other? Ah, wait. The Doctor did allude to that on the first night he broke in.

When I am about to start walking upstairs and ask the Doctor to follow he speaks again.

“Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m a _thief_. I’m a lot of things but not that. But…you wouldn’t take my word for it, would you?”

‘Hmmm?’ I wonder what he is doing when he shucks off his dramatic overcoat and starts unclipping his waistcoat before throwing it open with a flutter, arms outstretched, gloved palms up in submission.

“Search me. if you find anything of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks. Go ahead. Search until you’re satisfied.” He says, lowering his eyes, presenting himself for inspection.

Oho? Is this a challenge? This is definitely a challenge. If he thinks I’ll refuse, he is in for a _surprise_.

“I think I will.”

His eye jerks up to meet mine once I have spoken, clearly not expecting them. How fun.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He simpers at me, “Well then, don’t be shy. I promise I’ll be good.”

Well then, where do I start?

Deciding that his chest is as good as any place, considering I doubt that I’ll find anything stolen, I step closer to him and reach out my hands to place them on his pectorals. Then I begin to glide them outwards and over the shoulders.

“Not afraid to get close up and personal, are y-” He begins to speak once more but cuts himself off when on my reverse glide, my hands brush across his bare throat. His skin is surprisingly cool under my touch and I can feel his pulse jump under my hands.

When my hands move downwards, he jumps away squawking and blushing once more, as slippery as an eel.

“No, no, no, not there!” He stills and looks away from my unblinking stare, “I…I’m afraid I’m terribly ticklish.”

How childish is it of me that I want to pounce on him and see just how ticklish he is exactly? That’s probably one way to chase someone away. I have a hard time suppressing my smile at my silly thoughts.

Then the Doctor gives me a sly smile: “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.”

I shrug my shoulder, feeling my smile twitch before I remember that I’m meant to be still searching him. Can’t back out halfway now. And so I reach out to catch his arm causing him nearly to overbalance and fall.

“Hold still,” I order, using my ‘Son of a Duke’ and ‘King’s Nephew’ authority voice. It is curious how quickly he stands to attention before he flushes, biting his lip.

Smirking at his adorable reaction, I circle behind him but he tries to twist around to try and watch me. His eye is bright with interest. My insides squirm under his shameless stare.

“I had-”

But I cut him off: “Did I say you could move?”

“I, ah…no, you didn’t.”

“Then turn back around.”

He complies without hesitation and I observe as the tips of his ears turn red.

‘Oh my goodness, that is so cute!’ my mind whispers at me but I preserve and begin to slide my palms down his back. I feel more than see the tremor that goes through him at the touch, being as close as I am. My hands begin to move to his hips and down, checking his pockets and stopping when I feel a hard edge. I immediately recognize the feel of a dagger, having used them myself as my main weapon in my original world.

“Ah, that, don’t worry about that.” The Doctor buts in at my pause. “But I _am_ happy to see you. I can show you, if you like.”

I can hear his smirk and snort in response. His speech is shameless but I can feel him nervously shifting his weight. I suppose it’s time to end the teasing so I walk back around to his front, but can't resist, still trailing one hand over his hip. He sways in my direction but holds himself still with a visible effort.

‘Hmm, something to note for future use,’ I think over his behaviour before I speak, getting serious.

“Tell me what you were really looking for.”

“You’re very persistent, aren’t you? And, hmm. Thorough.” My stare is fully unimpressed at his shallow attempt to distract me.

I watch his throat bobbing in a swallow before he lets out a slow, shaky sigh and speaks the truth.

“I…I was looking for answers. But I didn’t find any. Not the ones I wanted.”

“Alright. I believe you.” I can see that my words take him aback once more.

“Huh? I, ah. Wait. Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s a terrible idea. You shouldn’t take anyone at their word, least of all me.” I do agree with the Doctor’s words, one shouldn’t trust everyone, unquestionably, that’s how you got fooled or hurt and was one of the first lessons hammered into my head as a child. But I have been in my profession for long enough to spot the types that cannot lie without obvious signs. And I know a difference between acting out a personality and naturally having the personality, considering I spent fifteen years changing from person to person or animal to animal to gather as much information as I could.

The Doctor was telling the truth.

“But, er, well. I do hope you’re satisfied.” He continues and I want to shake my head, I am not satisfied at all. All I have is more questions. Questions I doubt I’ll be getting answers to now.

“I would just hate to disappoint you.” He finishes, not looking at me as he retrieves his overcoat with a showy flourish and slips it back on.

‘Really, the dramatic flare in that move was unconscious, how adorable.’ I am fully aware that my thoughts are running away from me again. Emotions, hah.

He begins to say his farewells, taking a wide step around me to go for the door, a broad grin on his face. I turn to follow his path of escape as he reaches the door and pulls them open in the face of yet _another_ person. This time it being Portia. From my position I can catch a glimpse of Portia’s widening eyes and her lips forming an ‘o’ shape. She must have come to find me but all her attention has been captured by the Doctor. This most likely confirms my hypothesis of them being siblings.

“Ilya?” The name that escapes her lips is not the one I was expecting. Was Julian not his first name? Was it an alias?

“Ilya? Is it really you?” I spot one shaking hand coming to the side of the face I can see, the other probably mirroring the action. Not wanting to intrude in their sibling reunion, I silently make my way upstairs. Sadness and desire to reunite with my own brother aching in my chest.

He was my strongest support back in my own world. The best big brother you could wish for. He would have taken my death badly. I just hope he didn’t run off to do something reckless and follow in my steps to death, someone had to stay for our parents. And I already couldn’t do that.

The soft murmur of their voices fade completely by the time I have entered my room but I do hear the door shutting behind them with a bang when they must leave. I open my windows and check on all my flowers. The magic ensures that they grow well even in the cold weather but they still need watered and the old blooms picked off. I do let them rest during winter but flower them the rest of the year, the blooms offering their own special kind of comfort.

Once I’m done with them, I move to my dresser. I have replaced the old one with one that has a mirror and a seat and not just drawers for the clothing. It’s something that I had back in my own room, in my own world and its presence would both comfort and make me feel untethered, often feeling like I do not belong here.

A comb sits on the surface surrounded by different ribbons and hair ties. A few hair pins are scattered in between. I liked having my hair long. It’s something I’ve always had from as far back as I could remember. The hair of magical beings in my world grew very fast and so many let them grow really long, my family being amongst them. I had loved my hair colour as well, the iridescent locks gleaming so beautifully any time light shined on them and I had fully agreed to let my hair grow as well. The only one not sharing my hair colour in the family had been my mother.

The white hair of my current body is different. While they would reflect different colours depending on the light source, it couldn’t come close to my own, original colours. But I did not come here to moon over my hair so I turn my attention away.

Ruffling through my drawers, I pull out my spare nightrobe and fold it into my bag. I already have an extra change of normal clothing but as the Countess had given me something else to wear, I had yet to use it.

Maybe I should bring something else? Having magical ingredients could be useful. And maybe that book of spells I hadn’t finished reading from Asra yet. I had kind of agreed to solve this mystery, thought no promises on capturing the Doctor. Whether he really killed the Count or not, I have a crush on him and would really prefer for someone else to do the arresting. And if he runs away again, then it’s not my fault that the guards here are incompetent. No one in this world knows of my previous professions so they can’t really expect that I would be good at capturing criminals, right?

Once I gather what I think might be useful and fail at finding the book, maybe Asra took it with them, I start leaving the shop, remembering to lock both doors using keys _and_ magic. Just in case the Doctor giving back the key means he might know how to lockpick. I prefer knowing if someone comes to visit, thank you very much. I prefer it even more if they knock on doors and wait for me to let them in and all.

Once outside, I see that the sun will soon reach its maximum height and as if to confirm my suspicion, the distant clock tolls the hour. Soon, the announcement will be made so I better move my feet and get to the city square.

The square is densely packed, smaller folks and latecomers circling the perimeter for a better view. A pleasant smell I can’t place is wafting from somewhere nearby. Up, on the top of the fountain, found in the middle of the square, I spot Portia standing with a scroll in her hands. She unrolls it, beginning the announcement.

“Ahem! Hear ye, hear ye! This is an announcement from your Countess Nadia! On the anniversary of the passing of your beloved Count Lucio, the Countess will open the Palace gates. That’s right, folks! All are invited not to mourn but to celebrate the spirit of the dearly departed Count!”

As I wonder the validity of those last words, I watch the loud excitement passing through the crowd. I’ve been present for many different announcements in my own world during my information gathering amongst the humans. Most of them had to do with war or increased tax. They were never good news for the commoners. Announcements for the magical beings had been done very differently from humans thanks to our magic.

But then my nose picks up a familiar scent of Myrrh and I follow it. Usually it means that the giant man is near and I plan on finally asking for his name if I can manage to find him. For a man so large he is amazing at disappearing on a moments notice. I bet he knows this city better than most people.

‘Ah, here he is,’ I think as I spot the hulking figured. He is wearing his hood over his face as usual, making his figure blend with the shadows. I begin to move towards him, idly listening to Portia’s voice being carried throughout the square and the crowd erupting in cheers when the Masquerade happening once more is announced.

Just as I am getting close, the massive man starts to move down a side street like he is escaping from something. His lumbering pace is easy enough to match so I catch up halfway down the street. I am right behind him when I speak.

“Hello! What do you think of the Masquerade?”

He turns as if he dreads the very sight of me.

'Oh, should I have let them be?’ Loneliness stabs at me but I force it away to see what he will say.

“Blindly to the slaughter. Just like the rest of you.”

…That was unexpected…Whatever does he mean? Sounds just like Asra when they speak in riddles.

“…You mean the Masquerade is a mistake?” I try to guess but can’t tell his reaction considering his face is still cloaked.

“…Yes…but it doesn’t matter. My words won’t last. They never do,” he finally replies. I guess he is referring to the magic compulsion that make people forget about him. He doesn’t know that it doesn’t work on me and I am not sure if I should reveal that now…

Ah, but his name. I should ask before he disappears on me.

“May I ask you for your name?”

Unfortunately, my question seems to fall on deaf ears as he begins to shuffle away, chains softly clinking together as he moves. I scramble to catch up before he can disappear around the corner and nearly run into them when he stops on the stairs, broad back to me.

“Err…Can’t you please answer?”

With a start, he turns around so quickly his tattered hood falls back and I am met with his wide green eyes. Were they waiting for the spell to take effect? I think it is needed for the person to go out of sight for a moment before the effect takes place. Something like: ‘Out of sight and out of mind’.

But he simply turns, his broad shoulders almost scraping the walls as he shuffles away from me. I follow, emerging into the bustling market. Immediately I spot his imposing figure skirting the edged of the market, avoiding the crowd. As soon as I get close, he starts lumbering away again, pausing behind an apple cart which does nothing to hide his massive form.

Is he trying to hide from me? This is kind of adorable, like a child who doesn’t fully understand the concept of hiding.

Next, they shuffle behind a…stray dog? But he seems to realize the futility of it when the dog gets up, trotting off. Finally he speaks.

“Go away.”

“I just wanted to ask for your name, I’ll leave you be after that if you wish.” I explain, wondering if I am bothering him too much.

“Why would you want to know my name?” He looks at me, incredulous, mouth gaping.

“So I know what to call you by.” I answer, feeling a bit awkward at the look he is giving me.

“But why would you want to know my name?!” Err…isn’t that the same question?

“So I know what you are called?” I repeat, maybe he didn’t hear me the first time?

“…Muriel,” they finally give, after a long moment of silence where he stares at me and I awkwardly stand there, the world moving around us, like we weren’t part of it.

“Thank you,” I smile at him before nodding at him politely, “Goodbye then. Have a good day.”

As I promised him, I turn and leave despite the many questions flittering around my mind. What exactly about the Masquerade was leading people or maybe just me? To slaughter? But no, Muriel said ‘like the rest of you’, so it must be something that could happen during the Masquerade. But why the Masquerade? Can’t it happen at other times?

What exactly did I getting into by agreeing to help with solving the murder? Was this truly a wise choice?

Well...I think it might be too late to back out by now? Or I could be Asra and dissappear? 

As my legs take me back to the square, where Portia is probably already finished and waiting for me, I concentrate on simply breathing. I must not let my mind spiral out of control. Here, I did not have family members, a healer or friends who knew how to help me out of a breakdown. I was lucky that the one from the day before yesterday wasn’t too severe and Portia, kind enough to help me.

Here, I didn’t have anyone. But it was also my own fault. I could have told Asra the truth long ago, when I realized that he was not a bad man and wouldn’t destroy me just because he summoned back the wrong person. I could have tried to make friends from any of the people in the city and yet I always kept them at arm’s length and was only friendly like simple acquaintances. In the end, I had driven myself in this desperate situation where I was on the edge of breaking and with no one to help me put me back together when the inevitable happens.

Upon entering the square, I see Portia in the servants’ wagon tossing flower petals and rice onto the dancing city folk. Was that not a waste of rice? That was food! Why not use something inedible?

“Seraphin, there you are!” Portia calls out to me when she spots me coming towards her, mt thoughts distracted, “Would you look at this crowd? No incidents back at the shop, I hope? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

Her smile is a shade of desperation as she bats her eyes pleadingly while I sit down beside her on the wagon. I open my mouth to answer but we’re jostled as the wagon lurches to life. The moment passes and the topic is left to rest as wild laughter follows us down the streets ringing with news of the Masquerade.

“Seraphin?” Portia prompts me again a moment later.

With the many thoughts I’m trying to supress, it takes me a moment to register Portia’s voice and I hum in inquiry.

“You’re going to be meeting with the courtiers when we reach the Palace. Wanna know who they are first?”

“Hmm. Yes, that would be helpful.” I agree, not looking forwards to this meeting. I didn’t know whether I should use the noble bearing I had learnt from being the Duke’s son. I knew how to mask it well as it would have given me away too easily in my line of work if used in an inappropriate situation. I could act as the perfect servant or the stupid farmer without anyone suspecting anything but then I could also shift forms to match my role. I was still refusing to try to see if I could shift in this body as well and it had never come upon in Asra’s lessons. Could people even shift shapes in this world? If I still could, would that make me even more of an anomality? But then Portia began to explain and I tuned back in to listen.

“Well, there’s Procurator Volta, Praetor Vlastomil, Pontifex Vulgora, Quaestor Valdemar and Consul Valerius.”

That…is less than I thought… Maybe it won’t end in a disaster? Five people was doable right?

“In the end, Valerius is the most important. Milady minds him more than the rest. The others are a bit eccentric but I’m sure they’ll be kind to you,” Portia gives my shoulder a reassuring pat and I kind of melt. This woman was very sweet. Maybe I could trust her to tell my secrets to her? Make a real friend here? A connection that isn’t just superficial?

The rest of the ride is spent with me contemplating the pros and cons of me finally facing my problems and maybe, finally making peace with my last life.

When we arrive back to the Palace, Portia escorts me to a wing that smells strongly of half a dozen perfumes. Oh, my poor nose, why can’t these people tone down on it? Is it some kind of a competition for them? Who can smell the strongest? The perfumes don’t even match! It kind of feels suffocating!

The music registers next along the cackling laughter. That doesn’t sound ominous at all. Not one bit. Not like I’m about to meet some minions of pure evil. I mean, the Countess is nice, right? Surely, she couldn’t have picked bad courtiers? But what if they were picked by her dead husband? They could totally be evil then! My hesitation is noted by Portia who smiles reassuringly at me.

“Go on, Seraphin. These people can’t wait to meet you.”

This was the perfect time to try some invisibility spells, right? But I refused to be a coward just because of some trauma and humans and so I opened the doors and stepped into the room.

Hazy plumes of smoke cloud the air inside, making me want to turn on my heel and run. Cold sweat begins to bead down my back. But I refuse to let the Countess be embarrassed by me. Or Portia. It is a tactic that my healer discovered could be used on me so I would not shut down. Doing things for myself was hard when I was anxious or uncomfortable but for someone else? I could suddenly do it. And so I will do this for both the Countess and Portia. One woman who has been kind to me and another who has been sweet and friendly.

Then I spot the Countess sitting behind a gleaming pipe organ and I offer a smile that hides my nerves.

“Welcome, Seraphin,” her voice is calming as her elegant fingers strike a victorious chord. It lets me breathe easier and I can turn to pay attention to the rest of the room.

The hazy smoke makes the forms, that sit on the pillowy couches arranged to one side, look soft. I can can make out five people there, in various sizes and forms.

I hear the shifting sound of music sheets and look back over just as the Countess speaks again.

“Portia, please introduce our honoured guest.”

“Announcing Seraphin, friend of the Palace and apprentice to Asra the magician.” Portia’s voice is both cheerful and serious and I wonder how she manages that. I can only ever be the one or the other.

With my back ramrod straight, I take in the people as they begin speaking to me, three of them jumping up to speak over themselves as they approach to crowd around me.

Remember to _breathe._

“You’re Seraphin? Oh, oh, you’re so cute!” one of the women is first to speak. She seems to be blind in one eye as it’s milky white while the other a deep brown, the shape of them drooping. She is elderly with an unhealthy grey skin tone. She wears a long black dress and headwear like a nun with peeks of ginger curls escaping at the front. What immediately stands out to me is the bright red beetle brooch that pins her black shawl wrapped around her shoulders and arms together. This is probably the Procurator Volta but it would be nice if they introduced themselves with names, please and thank you!

“What a delightful surprise, we were all just talking about you!” The man’s voice is high and unpleasant to hear when he speaks next. While I don’t usually judge a person by looks but this…his grey skin, older appearance with grey hair, eyes and skin…plus the facial hair he keeps…looks like a man one wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley or _anywhere_ really. He wears a black priest like outfit and his black hat has a grey feather. A red beetle pinning a cloak together catches my eye on him as well, making me wonder…why beetles? This is probably the Praetor…Vlastomil was it?

The other woman is next to speak and with harsh, commanding enthusiasm that I dislike immediately.

“Sit! No, not with them, with ME, Seraphin!” Being the only other woman, this must be the Pontifex Vulgora and the first thing I note on her, are the gleaming red and very sharp gauntlets that she wears on her hands. Her whole outfit is in different shades of red and her headgear fashioned in huge horn like monstrosities. Her face is powdered pure white with exaggerated red makeup around her eyes that make her golden pupils stand out. It takes me a moment to spot it, in all the red she wears but like the other two, she has a red beetle pinned somewhere on her person.

She is also the most active one and wins in the jostling war and grabs me by the arm and drags me to sit beside her while the other two find their seats close by. Nausea curls in my stomach but I keep the thought that this is a mission I am doing for the Countess and Portia and must keep everything hidden. It will be over sooner or later! Just breathe!

I look over the two figures that did not move. Both male, one very lean and tall in a white doctor coat with black, elbow length surgical gloves. He wears a surgical face mask and has white horn like structures on his head that hides his hair. His skin an unhealthy tone of grey-green? Was the man okay? His red eyes meet mine for just a second, but I was already moving over to the last man but still noted the red beetle that was pinned to his throat and the aura of wrongness that he exuded very subtly. Better to avoid him in the future.

The other man wore a floor length, long sleeved tunic in white with a grey, half sleeved robe that closed over the chest but opened at the hips. The black shawl that was draped across his shoulders, for a change had a golden ram pin and not the beetle.

I liked him already.

And his hair! It was long, braided and went from a black to blond and was very pretty. His skin was for a change a healthy, slightly tanned complexion. I hope this was Consul Valerius because he looked the best out of the lot and was middle aged at worst and mid-twenties at best. He seemed like a proper help for the Palace. He was glaring into his wine glass and seemed to want to be everywhere else but here. I could totally relate.

“Tell me, Seraphin. How was the announcement received?” The Countess’s voice draws my attention to her but I still kept one eye on the three hyenas around me, just in case they tried something. Their auras seemed equally off if very different to the doctor like man, possibly the Quaestor Valdemar by process of elimination.

But before I could open my mouth, the hyena like group spoke first.

“One can only imagine! Even we, the favourites of the Countess, had no idea!” Praetor exclaimed first.

“Such a beautiful surprise from our dearest Countess! A Masquerade!” Procurator, in her squeaky voice wasn’t far behind.

“HAH! And we don’t even have to do the work!” At least the Pontifex was practical in her words, this event must take a huge amount of manpower to organise.

“How lucky Seraphin would have to be, to get a word in with you all. Goodness.” And the Countess totally had a point! But really, I was fine not speaking at all! I can just admire the Consul’s hair or the Countess’s or even mine. I knew how to be subtle enough to not be noticed in my staring. No one needed to know of my fascination for pretty hair. Not like I wanted to touch, I just liked looking at pretty things and I often found long hair to be very pretty.

But the Praetor was quick to speak again: “Oh my worm-ahem, I mean word-how lucky he already is! To be taken in by the Countess, an unknown apprentice!”

I spot the Countess arching her eyebrow at the Praetor but says nothing as the until now silent, possible Quaestor speaks next. Please, introductions are important, you know?

“Risky, risky. So very unlike our thoughtful and meticulous Countess.”

His voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. The voice soft and chilly at the same time. There is something seriously off with the man, his aura is messed up and twisted and I do not dare to release my magic to investigate in detail. That would be giving myself away and in this unknown situation, that could prove to be very dangerous.

“Perhaps the Countess might inform her _adoring_ court…how exactly she found herself at the witch’s door that night.” Consul Valerius is the last to speak amongst the group as he raises to stand and round the couch to look down his nose at me. My eyes are drawn to his hair but I force myself to meet his grey eyes to be polite.

“Or perhaps the witch might tell us himself.”

“She knocked…” the words escape me before I can stop myself and the three hyenas burst into laughter. I can also hear the amused organ chords played by the Countess and the stifled giggles of Portia. The Consul is trying to appear insulted but I can spot a glimpse of amusement in his eyes all the same.

“Ah, you must explain everything!” Pontifex announces, sniggering: “What happened after she knocked?”

“We’ve heard only the _gossippe._ ” The Praetor is the next to speak, “Did the Countess truly come to you in the dead of the night, stumbling barefoot, tearing through the streets?”

“Please, my poor Countess. I must know if she was weeping!” The Procurator wails next, clutching at her face.

“…She wasn’t. But the hour was late and the Countess was most insistent in her knocking. I really wouldn't know how she arrived at my shop either.” Then I begin the recount of my first meeting with the Countess and her proposal for me to come and visit her to the courtiers. 

Once I finish with my simple tale, the Countess speaks next.

“If you all wanted so badly to know how that night transpired, you might have simply asked. My headaches had grown worse and I was having some trouble sleeping-”

The Procurator rudely interrupts to agree with her words and after a short pause to recollect herself, the Countess continues her speech.

“Yes, Procurator. On that night I woke haunted by the spectre of a dream, no escape for my mind. Indeed, I was…seeking someone, anyone who may be of help to me. It was I who was lucky, to come across the one I needed so soon. A benevolent universe brought us together, did it not, Seraphin?”

I look over at her from where I had gone back to eyeing the small crowd of courtiers to see her glimmering red gaze looking at me rather fondly. I am not oblivious to the courtiers’ shifting, their eyes studying me with new intensity, and I must supress the desire to bare my teeth at them.

But then the Consul sighs and looks back down into his wine glass before shifting back to me and speaking:

“Countess, it pains us to hear that you felt you must look elsewhere for a sympathetic ear. Should you deem us worthy of your trust, we are as open books to you!”

‘Are you sure about that?’ Is what I really would like to ask because have you seen the other courtiers, Consul? You are the only normal one here! No wonder the Countess would seek aid outside if she only has one possible reliable high staff member. I bet the Consul is always busy with paperwork and so forth as someone responsible for helping the Countess rule over the netizens. Paperwork was a nightmare, a never-ending nightmare. You would be surprised how much endless paperwork war produces and as someone with a decent position, I had spent far too much time doing it.

I catch the movement of his arms as he moves to sweep them wide in a flourish. His half full wine glass still in one hand. I have two options here, as I watch the wine soar through the air as if in slow motion. Let it happen or use my magic to stop it... Better be underestimated.

And so when the wine splashes over the front of my garments, I offer Consul a polite smile even as a collective gasp sweeps through the room. What a petty man, somehow I still like the Consul more than the others. At least he isn’t pretending to be nice and is upfront with his distrust. It is something I can understand even if the move is still rather petty of him.

“How clumsy of me. Surely you know some hocus or pocus to remedy this dilemma?” The Consul says as he twists his mouth into a mocking smile in turn. Mine is still present if not even more polite. But our stare-off is disturbed by the Countess.

“Enough, Valerius. You have exhausted my patience for tonight. All of you, out.”

The tone is commanding enough that all of them comply immediately, the hyena trio look sheepish. The Consul stalks out like a proud peacock and the Quaestor glides out as if he cares nothing for the whole debacle. I have the feeling that he really doesn’t.

I jerk slightly when a hand settles on my shoulder but as I turn, it is just the Countess.

“I am sorry, Seraphin. We must rid you of these ruined clothes, of course…tsk, such pettiness. But I have taken enough liberties with your wardrobe. So please, do not hesitate. Tell me what you would like. And Seraphin…spare no expense.”

As she speaks, Portia comes closer, giving me an encouraging smile. Does the Countess like bestowing gifts upon people? Why not use this for improving the city? There are so many poor districts in Vesuvia that could use some serious money to renovate and help the populace. While it was my elder brother who was going to take over the Dutchy, I did receive basic training in how to help him manage the territory…’Ah, I miss him…’ I think before I force my mind back on the topic.

“No, thank you, Countess. I do not desire anything special.”

Portia giggles at my answer: “I thought you would say that.” Her smile is warm and I smile back. My heartbeat begins to calm and I no longer have to remind myself to breathe. I did it. _I did it._ I did not break down.

“As humble as ever, Seraphin,” The Countess chimes in, “Your comfort here is of great importance to me. After Portia escorts you back to your chambers, your own garments will be returned. Though, Seraphin…You are my guest of honour. You could be more selfish, if you like.”

‘If that was the case, why make me meet the courtiers?’ is what I sensibly don’t say, instead bidding her goodbye and following Portia back to my guest room. Soon after the door closes behind us, the cooing tones of the organ begin and echo after us down the hall. And I wonder how much of the Palace I have seen so far. This is the third path to my guest room, different from the other two.

When I am finished with my bath, I re-enter my guest room and immediately spot a parcel by the window. I pick up the note on top, it is from the Countess.

‘ _A gift for my dear guest, this emerald which seemed to call your name. Wear it in good health. And Seraphin, you may call me Nadia.’_

I hum in response to it and bring the parcel over to the dressing table. This one is much bigger than the one in my room and doesn’t double as a wardrobe. The mirror is also very fancy, compared to my much simpler brass one. I set the parcel down not planning on opening it just yet. Instead, I fetch my comb and begin to de-stress by combing my hair.

Today, I did not dry it by magic, simply towelled it down so now the damp locks fall along my bare chest, leaving it damp but I don’t mind. I’ve done it hundreds of times in both worlds and my mind falls into a lull at the repetitive motion. I clear my mind and simply exist. There is no past and no future, just a simple present. It helps me to re-charge from all the ups and downs of the past few days.

It is midnight by the time my hair is fully dry and combed to a perfection. I let it flow freely and look at my reflection. Three years of staring at my reflection as my hair grew, admittedly with some magical help from me or it wouldn’t be reaching the classic length, at the level of where my hips end and my thighs start, after only three years. I can say that I do not blank out as badly as I did at first upon my reflection. One would think that having had the ability to shapeshift, seeing a different face would be fine. But it was different! A shift would mean that my whole body is enveloped in my magic, changing my real body into something else! I knew when I was shifted and this wasn't it! Looking into a mirror and seeing a different face but feeling no magic surrounding my whole body was disconcerting.

But this is me now. I realize that I have been slowly growing used to this. Maybe it won’t be so bad? Three years is enough to mourn the old me, right? It is fine to move on now, not to forget but to make peace. With my past _and_ my memories.

Portia’s soft smile comes to mind and the words from the note ‘ _you may call me Nadia’_. Sad purple eyes…smooth scales and an intelligent gaze. Red ears and short curly hair… A giant of a man…I had people here that I could build connections with. I meet the icy blue eyes in my reflection so different from my original iridescent ones. But that was okay. Blue eyes were beautiful too. And they had a tendency to glow as well like my old ones did. There was a single solid colour but the glow was still beautiful in the dark. I probably, really was not a human in this world either but that was fine too. I fit in nicely back in my home world but I am sure I could fit in here as well if I let myself do so.

“It’s okay,” I whisper at my reflection, “I can get better, right?”

Silence, as always, is my response and I can feel the tears stinging my eyes. I let them fall even as I finally reach for the parcel and begin to unravel it. Once the paper slips away, a softly glimmering emerald is revealed. I can sense a flicker, a whisp of magic and recognise it at once upon investigating it further. It was Asra’s. I kind of want to see their face, hear their voice. Despite my discomfort at their love for me, considering the circumstances, they are the person who has guided me in this unfamiliar world. How selfish would it be for me to wish that we could become something like brothers so I would have something of a family here?

I feel like I need to see them and so I pick up the emerald. And without too much thought on my actions, I slip out of my room, my magic enveloping me in a protective barrier as I glide through the hallways, using some of the secret hallways Portia showed me to get to the garden faster.

A sliver of a moon has appeared in the sky from the moonless sky a few nights ago to bathe my surroundings in silvery greys amongst the black shadows and blue hues. My bare feet take me into the maze as I let my magic and my wish guide me. The eerie silence is calming and I wonder if I look like a spectre. Long white hair sweeping behind me, having left them free for once. My eyes glowing and the sliver of the moon shining down upon me, making my skin look more grey than the golden brown it really was.

As I glide through the maze, the lovely sound of softly tinkling water enters my ear and I know that I am almost at my unknown destination. Rounding a corner, I enter a small clearing where a large, old willow tree hangs over a small fountain, the source of the sound. Something slithers along the leaves and my eyes catch a sight of smooth, light scales, looking greyish under the sliver of moonlight and I recognise her at once.

“Faust?” I wonder in a whisper, “Didn’t you go with Asra? What are you doing here?”

She flickers her tongue at me, hovering close to the pool at the base of the fountain. The water flows slowly and so the reflection can be seen rather clearly in the nearly still water.

I approach Faust and reach out my arm where she eagerly drops onto my shoulder, her sleek body giving me a friendly squeeze. I take a seat on the edge of the pool as I absently stroke Faust’s smooth scales.

“How did you find me? And why now of all times?” this time I speak a little louder but still keep my voice soft. I know that Faust can’t answer me. I am not Asra and she can only communicate clearly with them. For me, I have to rely on intuition and some carefully worded questions. These are not either but I have no need to know the answer, simply wondering aloud. As I am sure that, most likely, Asra sent her to me.

Faust twists over my arm to take a look at the emerald, tongue flicking over it. She can probably feel Asra’s magic in it too. I let it fall into the pool and watch it sink as the emerald refracts the moonlight from every single green, glimmering face, colouring the whole pool in a green tint.

But before the water can settle, colours begin to bloom, shapes unfolding. The longer I concentrate on Asra’s magic within the emerald the more the shapes in the water change. A moment later any glimpse of my reflection is gone and Asra’s takes its place.

They are drinking the water from their side of the pool, wherever they are. Each drop that falls from their hands, sending rippled through the image as it strikes the surface.

My experimental spell worked!

Before I can speak a greeting, Asra shakes out their hair, blinking the water from their eyes and look straight at me.

“Seraphin?” Their eyes widen as they must take in my form, “Can you hear me?”

“Yes…” I trail off, not knowing what else to say. I wanted to see them but what now? What happened to my ability to plan?

Their surprise only seems to increase as they lean a little closer to the point where I can see the water droplets on their eyelashes. It paints a rather pretty picture.

“Incredible.” Asra whispers next before laughing.

The motion causes them to lean back a little so I can see that they are sitting cross-legged, most likely beside a pond or some other source of water. The strange beast from my dreams is lying beside them, resting its weighty head on their knees. This makes me wonder about the nature of my dreams…or maybe it has to do with where Asra is? What if those dreams started off as visions before they disintegrated, morphing into nightmares?

I see Asra eyeing me over and a slight frown overtaking the gentle expression that had been on their face previously.

“Are you alright Seraphin?” They ask, causing me to blink and I wonder why they are asking this particular question?

“I think so, why?”

“You are shirtless with your hair open outside, in the middle of the night. I’ve never seen you show this much skin before, especially at night.” They explain and I glance down to realize that they are, indeed, speaking the truth.

I feel heat climb up my face, I had forgotten that I had only pulled up some pants so my nightgown wouldn’t get wet from my damp hair. This indeed was very unlike me. Being constantly covered was my most obvious trauma response that I was aware of. For months while being tortured, I was naked, laying in dirt of unknown origins and clothing represented a kind of armour once I had control back to myself. The only reason I had let Asra touch me so easily was because they had magic, without that, I might have panicked strongly enough to possibly self-detonate and destroy everything around me from the simple fact that my magic had been no longer restricted and my death horrible enough. 

“I just forgot to put it on when I decided to seek you out. I had been combing my hair before going to bed.” I explain even as I observe some tall palm trees swaying behind them against the glittering sea of stars. There doesn’t appear to be a moon there and I wonder where Asra has gone off to, that the moon is still new unlike here where it has begun to grow, it’s sliver my only source of light.

Asra blinks at me before they change the subject: “Ah, and Faust is with you. Looks like she found you all right. I wasn’t all that sure about leaving her. But after that reading you gave me…I thought I’d trust my intuition.”

In response to her Master’s words, Faust dips her tail into the water, sending new ripples across the image. Asra gives her a soft smile, their eyes becoming more gentle with the movement as they greet her.

“Faust, you’re looking lively. I’m glad you found Seraphin safely.”

It seems that it is only now that Asra takes in my surroundings as the next thing they comment on is the willow tree, asking if I was at the Palace.

I am quick to launch into telling them all about what happened the moment they left out the back door only four nights and three days ago. Somehow it feels like it has been much longer than this.

The more I speak, the more their eyes glimmer with keen interest. There are some details I leave out, like my nightmares, my discovered crush on the Doctor or how I went about searching him down with way too much touch where it really hadn’t been necessary. Some things were better left unsaid. And if I wanted to keep them close, it was nobody else’s business.

“Unbelievable. The day that I leave was the day you needed me the most.” Asra’s eyes look downcast, before they sigh, “And even then, you didn’t really need me at all. I’m glad Faust is with you, at least. If anything happens to either of you, I’ll know. I can live with that.”

Their sadness makes me feel sad as well. We really should talk about me and the circumstances of my resurrection but this conversation was better done in person. It has been left off for long enough on my part. I had made my decision to face my trauma and make this world my home. Next time we meet face to face, we will talk this out.

But currently I am very curious: “Where are you?”

They look over their shoulder at the sparkling, swirling galaxies overhead. Their smile turning relaxed, eyes growing softer.

“A place inside of me. Who would have thought you’d be able to reach me here? Your magic is inescapable. I think you’ll be able to follow me all the way.”

Pardon me, what? Inside them?

… _How am I doing this then?_

… _How?_

Did my resurrection change my magic even more than I have been suspecting? Or does this have something to do with the fact that it is them who brought me back? Did it connect our magic somehow? Or was this something else?

But then my attention is caught by Faust sliding across my lap to take sniffling flicks at the water. I move my hand to pet her smooth scales absentmindedly as Asra speaks again.

“Faust is opening up to you.” They pause for a moment, glancing away for a second before looking back at me, right in the eyes.

“It may be time for me to do the same.”

I blank for a moment. Looks like I’m not the only one who wishes to fix the mess that our relationship is due to both of our avoidance. But I do have a feeling that what I have to say will not be what they will be expecting. Who exactly expects to summon the wrong soul back? Was that even a thing that happens in worlds where resurrection was a regular occurrence? Had anyone studied it?

My blank expression must be a sight as it makes Asra laugh, high and unrestrained. They rarely laugh this freely, small chuckles being far more common and it makes me smile in return. Though there is probably a touch of melancholy in my eyes or my face. I definitely feel it strongly enough to affect me.

Ah, I really miss my family…

Asra calms and gives me a piercing look: “I am being serious. I really want to start being more honest with you. You can ask me whatever you like but…all I _ask_ is that you start being more honest with me, as well.”

“Alright,” I agree, “But the conversation I think we really need to have is better done in person so maybe I can ask something I am curious about but it isn’t as important?”

They seem intrigued by my answer but leave it be, instead saying: “Sure, ask away.”

“Both the Countess and the Doctor seem to know you and so I am wondering, how well. Like, the Doctor broke into the shop _twice_ looking for something with the back door key. That reminds me that I must tell you that I warded those doors as well, whenever you come back. And then, the Countess has mentioned you as well but just in the passing. At one point, I thought that she might have mistaken me for you because of the cards and all her expectations.”

They look startled at my questions and explanations, eyes widening.

“Oh, well…” They pause, probably thinking on how best to answer. That was indeed a lot to push on a person all that once.

“Well, Nadia…she used to be a dear friend to me…once. We could talk about anything, everything, all night long. We trusted each other. For a time…But we’re strangers now.”

When they pause again, I am impatient and curious enough to interrupt the answers and ask.

“What happened?”

They sigh: “You would be amazed at what people can forget if they don’t want to remember.”

There is a pause as I digest their words and wait to see if they will say anything else, especially about the Doctor.

“The Doctor?” They ask after a moment.

“Umm…right, when I say that I mean Julian Devorak, the one accused for murdering the Count and all.” I totally forgot that I have been calling him the Doctor never once mentioning his name in my re-telling.

“Ah, yes, I know who you mean. He was a-” and here they hesitate, looking away briefly but because I am paying close enough attention, I catch the myriad of emotions that cross them before they do so.

“…a friend. Once. Then more. And then…something else.” Their speech is choppy, with many pauses. This must be a topic they mustn’t like very much. But to think that they had something romantic between them at some point, that was a little surprising. But I can already tell that the Doctor is very charming so maybe not that surprising.

“To think that he would come after me, after all that…” Asra continues but I want to shake my head at that. What the Doctor was doing wasn’t going after them in the way they mean.

I watch as Asra’s expression crosses something close to a scowl: “He’s a hack physician with a lot to learn. And until he does, nothing good will come of him.”

Oh wow. That’s some strong opinion there from Asra. I do wonder about that. The medicine here doesn’t seem as advanced as in my first world. But that was because of magic making it easier for us to learn about our bodies which actually differed from the human ones but plenty of remedies could be used on both species. I had learned first aid and emergency wound treatments for burns, huge cuts and bone breakages. Once, I had needed to stitch up my own calf that had been cut nearly in half to help my regeneration to kick in and heal it properly. That had been painful and very messy. If I had been human, I would probably had died before I could have done anything from the shock alone. The only consistent thing I have heard here is leeches and well…I have my doubts.

Movement catches my eye and my eyes focus back on Asra as they shake their head and sigh, clearing the heavy mood. They offer me a smile.

“Is there, perhaps, something else on your mind?”

“Not at the moment. We shall talk when you come back, alright? But it’s already well past midnight and time for me to sleep if I want to function tomorrow.”

“Alright, Seraphin, we shall talk later. I’ll see you again soon. I know you can find me if you want to.” And with those words, Asra reaches towards the water connecting us. Their touch scatters the image and they are gone.

I feel Faust tightening her hold on my arm and when I look down, she gives me a disappointed look. Who would have known that snakes were so expressive?

“Come, Faust, we’ll see them again soon. I’m sure that they won’t stay away for long with you here.”

If snakes could sigh, I am rather sure she would have done so, as she slithers up my arm to rest on my shoulders. I glance up at the moon, to see it hanging low in the sky. I am sure that daybreak will come soon. It’s time to head back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 16 pages on Word. It took me forever to edit it and I am sure there are still some mistakes that escaped me.   
> As for the next update, I am unsure but I personally would like to make a regular schedule and my chosen days would be Wednesday and Sunday but I will have to see how it goes. I might need to stick to one chapter per week if my job takes up too much of my time.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the Prologue, a little hint of Seraphin's background and how the mix up of soul's happened.  
> Hope that whoever reads this finds it fun enough. Will be updating the next chapter soon enough.


End file.
